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itneverendshere · 4 months ago

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you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (five)

requested here; (one); (two); (three); (four)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader(the duff inspired); college!au word count: 5k

It had been days since the talk, and you still couldn’t wrap your head around it. You sat on your couch, staring blankly at your textbook, trying to convince yourself you were focusing on your work, but let’s be real—you weren’t.

You were thinking about him.

The guy who, just two days ago, basically admitted he had feelings for you—and, to your own surprise, you admitted you felt something too. That whole conversation felt surreal.

It was terrifying in the moment—standing there, in the library after your lunch date with Nate, both of you avoiding eye contact like the plague until one of you finally broke the silence.

And now what? What was supposed to happen next?

You groaned, flopping back onto the couch. Your mind kept remembering how everything felt different now. Like, way different. You couldn’t look at Rafe the same way, couldn’t just be around him without wondering if he was thinking about it too—the kiss, the feelings, the whole thing.

And then, of course, there were Ava and Harper, who were way too invested in your love life now. Every time you and Rafe were in the same room, they’d shoot each other these obnoxious grins, making over-the-top kissy faces behind his back. Could they be more obvious?

As if on cue, Harper burst through the front door, Ava trailing right behind her.

“Okay, we need details,” Harper said, dropping her bag and plopping down next to you.

“Yeah,” Ava chimed in, sitting on the arm of the couch. “You’ve been weirdly quiet about it for days, and we know something’s up.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. “There’s nothing to tell. We talked. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Harper raised an eyebrow. “You two pretty much confessed you like each other. That’s not nothing!”

“Yeah, and now it’s weird,” you muttered, pushing your hair back, trying to find the words for everything that had been running through your mind since that day. “We’re supposed to be friends, you know?”

Ava exchanged a knowing look with Harper. “Sweets, nothing about having feelings for someone is uncomplicated. And besides, this is Rafe we’re talking about. You two hated each other—now you’re into each other. That’s a lot to process.”

“I know.” You chewed on your lip, feeling a little more exposed than you wanted to in that moment. “I just don’t know how to act around him. Before, we could just hang out, and it was fine, and now I’m wondering if he’s thinking about it every second like I am. And what happens if this thing between us doesn’t work?”

Harper grinned. “Or what if it does work? What if you actually, you know… like being with him?”

You shot her a look. “Stop.”

But Harper wasn’t stopping. “Come on, have you seen the way you look at him?

“I don’t look at him!”

“Oh yes you do,” Ava said, laughing when you threw a pillow at her, “You even drool sometimes.”

Harper snorted at her comment. “You totally do, like, the ‘I want to kiss him but I don’t know if I should’ thing with your eyes.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you guys. I knew you’d turn it into a whole thing.”

“Because it is a whole thing!” Ava said, grabbing the pillow you’d thrown and tossing it back at you. “You and Rafe! I mean, come on, this is literally the plot of every teen drama ever.”

You peeked up at her from between your fingers. “Except this isn’t TV.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? You like him, he likes you. Just date already.”

“He didn’t ask me, did he?” You grumble.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about.”

“Oh my god, it’s not about that,” you said, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt your face heat up. Of course they caught that.

You knew why Rafe hadn’t asked you out yet. It wasn’t like he was just being slow or clueless. He was literally waiting because you had told him to. You’re the one who said you needed time to figure yourself out, to see if this was really what you wanted. And he respected that. So, technically, this was all on you.

Still, it didn’t make it any less frustrating. Sure, you asked for time, but now that you had it? You were just overthinking everything and driving yourself nuts. And it wasn’t like you didn’t want him to ask, because, oh my god, you did.

You were just being pissy for no real reason, sitting here annoyed that he was actually doing what you’d asked him to do. Classic.

You groaned, sinking further into the couch cushions. “I’m such an idiot.”

Harper grinned, clearly enjoying your self-inflicted pain. “Yep. But at least you’re self-aware.”

Ava, ever the voice of reason, patted your knee. “Look, you said you needed time. He’s respecting that, which is honestly kind of amazing. Most guys would’ve freaked out or bailed, but Rafe’s giving you space. That’s a good thing.”

“I know,” you said, exasperated. “I just… I don’t even know what I’m waiting for anymore. What am I trying to figure out? I already like him. It’s just—”

“Just what?” Harper interrupted. “You’re scared?”

“I’m not scared,” you snapped, then immediately sighed. “Okay, fine, maybe I am. I just don’t want to screw things up.”

“Rafe’s not some random hookup,” Ava said softly. “If anything, you guys have been building this thing without even realizing it. He’s not going anywhere, so stop psyching yourself out.”

“Exactly. Just text him and say, ‘Hey, I changed my mind. Let’s go out,’” Harper suggested with a mischievous smirk. “I bet he’ll be here in five minutes, tops. I’ve seen the way he looks at you too."

That was the part that got you.

Rafe Cameron, the guy who used to roll his eyes at you back home, now couldn’t seem to stop looking at you like you were the only person in the room. And you… you liked it. A lot.

Ava nudged you, her grin widening as she pulled out her phone. “Speaking of, is he coming over?”

“Not today,” you mumbled, grabbing your phone to check it anyway.

No new messages.

“Ugh, you two are impossible,” She groaned, crossing her arms. “When are you going to tell him you actually like him? Like the actual words?

“Yeah, and when are you going to stop playing it so cool?” Harper added.

You scoffed. “You think I’m playing it cool? I literally have no idea what I’m doing.”

Just then, your phone buzzed in your lap. You glanced down and saw Rafe’s name on the screen.

Rafe: want to grab dinner tonight?

Your heart did that stupid fluttery thing again. Ava leaned over your shoulder, reading the text, while Harper grinned like she was plotting your wedding already.

“Dinner, huh?” Harper teased. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“It’s not a date,” you said quickly, though the idea didn’t sound so bad. “It’s probably just… I don’t know. He wants to talk about the whole feelings thing.”

Ava let out a high-pitched squeal, and Harper started making kissy faces. “Ooooh, talk,” she teased, drawing out the word with an exaggerated wink, “Trust me, it’s a date.”

“Oh my God!” You grabbed another pillow and threw it at them, “You’re so fucking annoying.” You sighed, standing up and grabbing your phone. “If this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you two.”

Harper beamed. “You’ll thank us later.”

You weren’t sure how you got from your doorm to the restaurant, but there you were, standing in front of Rafe as the two of you waited for a table. This wasn’t the easygoing banter you’d grown used to during study sessions or late-night hangouts. This was… different.

Rafe stood next to you, looking as calm and collected as ever. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it. Meanwhile, your stomach was doing somersaults.

He looked good—like, stupidly, unfairly, make-your-heart-pound-in-your-throat good. The kind of good that made you stop breathing. He was wearing a charcoal grey Henley shirt, the kind you never imagined him in, but now you couldn’t stop imagining it. It clung to his chest and arms in a way that had your mouth watering, showing off his muscular frame more than any of his usual polos ever did.

You swallowed hard, trying to look anywhere but directly at him. But it was impossible to ignore how the sleeves hugged his biceps, or how the soft fabric stretched just slightly across his broad shoulders. Even his hair, usually tousled in a “couldn’t care less” kind of way, looked effortlessly perfect tonight, like he was trying to kill you.

And then he caught you looking.

A slow, knowing grin spread across his face as his eyes met yours, like he could read every thought running through your head. "You good?"

You snapped out of it, blinking quickly, "Yeah, fine," you mumbled, though you were definitely not fine. Not with him standing there looking like he just stepped out of a magazine ad.

"Uh-huh," he said, clearly unconvinced, the smirk on his lips only growing wider. "You sure? You’ve been staring for a while."

You flushed instantly, the heat rising to your cheeks. "I wasn’t staring!"

"Right," Rafe drawled, stepping closer, "If you say so."

The worst part? He knew exactly what he was doing to you. That stupid Henley. He had to know. The server reappeared out of nowhere, "Table for two? Right this way!" she chirped with perfect timing.

You let out a sigh of relief, quickly stepping past Rafe, feeling your heart slow just a little. The place was packed, like it always was—one of those busy pizzerias where you could barely hear yourself think because of all the noise. The smell of freshly baked dough and melted cheese were in the air.

Rafe chuckled under his breath as you followed the server, clearly amused, “Why are you walking so fast?” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear. You shot him a quick look over your shoulder.

The server led you to a cozy corner booth near the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t fancy—far from it, actually. The table was slightly sticky, the chairs mismatched, and there was a stack of menus with creases on the edges already waiting for you. You loved it, it reminded you of home somehow.

He slid into the booth across from you, sitting with that same infuriatingly relaxed posture, his eyes never leaving you. "Guess we lucked out with a table," he said casually, picking up a menu.

You nodded, grateful for the noise of the restaurant “Yeah, it’s packed tonight.”

As you read the menu, trying to focus on pizza toppings instead of how good he looked across from you, you couldn’t help but feel the nerves start to fade just a little. It wasn’t fancy, and maybe that was the point. It was just dinner. Just the two of you. You could handle that... right?

"Do you always take this long to pick pizza toppings?" he teased, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. His pretty eyes flickered between you and the menu like this was some kind of game, one you were definitely losing.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the grin that pulled at the corner of your lips. "Sorry, I’m just trying to make sure I don’t ruin this life-altering decision. I know how you feel about your pizza."

That earned you a chuckle. God, why was it so attractive? You forced yourself to stare at the menu again, but your brain was mush. Every time you tried to focus on mozzarella, all you could think about was his stupid smirk and how his arms looked ridiculously good in that shirt. It was casual, but on Rafe? Casual somehow felt dangerous. And yeah, he was dangerous—at least to your heart rate.

"Pepperoni and jalapeño," he said suddenly, his voice dropping like he was letting you in on a secret. "Trust me, it’s the best combo."

"Spicy," you quipped, arching an eyebrow. "Trying to impress me, Cameron?"

Rafe’s smirk deepened, and his eyes did that thing—that thing where they darkened just a little, like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you. "If I wanted to impress you, I wouldn’t be ordering pizza."

“Right, kook king and all.”

Rafe just raised an eyebrow, “I’m not that guy anymore, you know. Or have you not noticed?”

Oh, you’d noticed.

How could you not? Rafe had always been the guy you were supposed to avoid. The entitled, rich kid who would’ve scowled at you in disgust not too long ago. But now, here you were, sitting across from him in some hole-in-the-wall pizza place, trying not to melt into a puddle under his attention.

“You’re still a kook,” you pointed out, mostly because teasing him felt safer than admitting you actually liked this version of him.

He shrugged casually, eyes locked on yours. “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re here, does it?”

You swallowed, trying to stay unaffected by how close he was, the way his voice lowered like the conversation was suddenly just for the two of you. “No, it doesn’t.”

He leaned back, his grin softening. “You’re thinking too much.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “How do you know that?”

“Because you always do.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re always overthinking everything.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’d been spiraling. It was like you couldn’t just let yourself feel whatever this was without worrying about what would happen next. Whether this thing with Rafe would blow up in your face like a bad movie plot or—worse—turn into something you couldn’t handle.

Jus as his warm smile started to settle you, you heard a voice that made your stomach drop.

“Uh, hey? What’s going on here?”

You froze.

No way. You didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

Nate.

Rafe’s eyes moved from you to the figure standing just behind you.

Great.

You slowly turned in your seat, Nate was standing there, looking between the two of you. This was bad. So bad.

“Nate,” you started, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Nate said, his brows knitting together as he glanced between you and Rafe. “You said you were busy with school stuff tonight.”

You winced. You had told him that. Because technically, you didn’t lie— you had planned on studying, but then Rafe texted you, and well… one thing led to another. And now here you were, on what very much felt like a date, with Nate staring at you like you’d just ripped his heart out. A little bit dramatic.

Rafe, still lounging casually in the booth, watched the whole thing with a raised eyebrow, clearly sizing Nate up, like he always did. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel the way he didn’t like this one bit—he was waiting for you to explain, waiting to see how you’d handle this.

“I—um…” You fumbled for words, your brain short-circuiting under the weight of the awkwardness. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you. This is… Rafe and I were just—”

“Just having dinner,” He cut in smoothly, “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tensing as he looked at Rafe. “Right. And how long has this been going on?”

You could hear the accusation in his voice, and it made your stomach twist. Nate wasn’t your boyfriend, but you’d been hanging out—nothing serious, but enough that this looked pretty bad from his perspective.

“Nate, it’s not like that,” you tried to explain. What could you even say right now?

Rafe glanced at you, one eyebrow quirking up like he was daring you to say more. “You don’t owe him an explanation.”

Except you kinda did because you felt like you’d been leading Nate on. You owed him something, even if it was just a proper way to end whatever this was between the two of you.

Nate crossed his arms. “Seems like there’s something to explain, though. I mean, you’ve been acting weird ever since we went to lunch the other day, and now I see you out with him?” He gestured toward Rafe, “So what is this? Are you guys a thing now?”

“Nate…” You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I’ve enjoyed hanging out with you, but I don’t think this is going to go where you’re hoping it will.”

Nate blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Oh.” His voice dropped, and he looked away for a moment. You felt like a bitch. You’d been the one to start persuing him and now you were doing this.

“Yeah, I guess that clears it up,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Then his eyes moved back to Rafe, and his expression hardened again. “Just watch out for him, alright?” His voice was stiff, but he wasn’t looking at you when he said it.

He was staring straight at Rafe, who didn’t flinch, just glared right back, his posture still cool, but his jaw tightened. “You don’t need to worry about her,” He said evenly, “I’ve got it covered.”

Nate clenched his fists but then shook his head with a sharp exhale. “Whatever. Take care, okay?” He shot you one last look, and you could see the disappointment there before he turned and walked away.

For a long moment, you just sat there, staring after him, feeling the guilt built in your chest. That had been brutal. Maybe you hadn’t handled things with Nate perfectly, but you hadn’t meant to hurt him like that.

Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t seem phased by Nate’s little number. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was checking in.

You nodded slowly, though you didn’t entirely feel okay. “Yeah… just didn’t expect that.”

“Seems like he’s got it bad for you.”

You shot him a look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little. But you didn’t answer his question.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What question?”

Rafe tilted his head. “Are we a thing?” Oh god. The way he was looking at you right now—it wasn’t just playful anymore. It was real, and serious. “Well?”

You took a deep breath, “I guess we are.”

It was like he needed to hear you say it, to own it. "Guess?" he repeated.

"Yeah, I guess we are," you said, more firmly this time. But the second the words left your mouth, you realized you didn’t really “guess.”

You knew. You’d known for a while now, ever since those late-night conversations, the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. You weren’t just some fling to him. And that terrified you.

He leaned forward across the table, just close enough that you could catch a hint of his perfume. His hand reached across the table, fingers brushing lightly against yours. It was such a simple touch, but it felt like everything. Like the start of something. You wanted to say something—anything—but your brain had gone completely blank, and all you could do was stare back at him, trying to understand what the hell was happening.

Then, without warning, he shifted in his seat, his long arms reaching across the small table, getting closer, his eyes never leaving yours. Before you could sutter out something stupid, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you toward him until your lips met.

It wasn’t tentative or slow. It was like he had made up his mind a long time ago, like this was something he’d been waiting to do. It wasn’t deep or drawn out, but it didn’t need to be. You could feel the strength of his hand at your neck, his fingers just barely threading through your hair, like he had some invisible line of control over you, but it wasn’t demanding or forceful. You just knew was holding back, knowing this wasn’t the place for more.

When he pulled back—just an inch—you could still feel his breath against your lips. His eyes stayed on yours, his thumb lightly brushed the nape of your neck and you felt like you were still leaning forward, chasing more even though you knew you couldn’t have it.

It was quick—barely a few seconds—but it left you completely breathless. “Told you, you overthink too much,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear, like it was your little secret.

The next day felt oddly normal, like nothing monumental had happened the night before—except it had. You were walking across campus with him now, books in hand, making easy conversation about random things. No one knew about you two yet—not officially, at least.

As you approached the doors to your building, Rafe slowed down. You weren’t even thinking about it, just caught up in the rhythm of your walk and the conversation, until suddenly he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

It wasn’t premeditated or dramatic—just an automatic gesture, like it was the most natural thing in the world. You eyes widened as you remembered exactly where you were: standing right outside your class building, in the middle of campus, where anyone could see. The kiss had felt so casual, so… normal, like he did it all the time. Like you were his and he didn’t care who saw.

He pulled away just as quickly as he’d kissed you, his lips curving into a smirk as he gave you a nod. “See you later sweets,” he said as if he hadn’t just left you completely flustered. Then he turned and walked off, completely oblivious that you were standing there, still processing what had just happened.

You blinked, trying to collect yourself, when you heard it: high-pitched squeals from just a few feet away.

“Oh my God, oh my GOD!” Harper’s voice was practically a screech.

You looked up to find both her and Ava standing by the door to your classroom, wide-eyed and grinning like they’d just witnessed the biggest scandal of the year.

“No way,” Ava gasped, her hands clapping over her mouth, her eyes darting from you to where Rafe had just walked away. “Did that just happen? Did he just kiss you, right in front of everyone?!”

Harper was already losing it, jumping up and down in excitement, her curls bouncing around her face. “I can’t believe this—finally! FINALLY!”

Your face flushed instantly as you looked between your two best friends. “Guys, it’s not a big deal—” you started, but they were having none of it.

“Not a big deal?!?” Ava cut in, eyes wide in disbelief. “Are you serious?!”

“Literally, he didn’t even hesitate!” Harper added, her hands dramatically flying to her head. “That was so hot! I’m obsessed with this. I need details. What the hell happened last night?”

You groaned, trying to hide the ridiculous grin creeping onto your face. “It’s not—okay, fine, it kind of is a big deal, but can you guys not freak out about it? We haven’t even talked about what this is yet. It's a thing."

Ava’s jaw dropped. “You don’t need to talk! He just kissed you!” She looked like she was about to burst from excitement. “Oh my God, this is so cute, I’m literally dying.”

Harper, still vibrating with energy, grabbed your arm and started pulling you toward the door. “We are so talking about this more later. This is the best day ever.”

After class, you three claimed a table near the windows at the cafeteria. You were mid-laugh, picking at your food, when you finally spilled all the details about last night.

“So, get this,” you sai, “Nate just showed up. Like, out of nowhere. I’m sitting there with Rafe, and then suddenly, boom—He’s standing right in front of us, asking what the hell is going on.”

Harper’s eyes widened, a piece of lettuce dangling from her fork. “No way. No way! And you told him—?”

“I basically had to reject him right then and there,” you admitted, biting your lip. “I felt so bad. He wasn’t my boyfriend or anything, but still, it was awful.”

Ava gasped dramatically, smacking the table with her hand. “Holy shit, I wish I could’ve seen his face.”

You winced, nodding. “Yeah, he was… not happy. But it’s not like I could’ve kept leading him on. I didn’t mean for it to happen in front of Rafe, though.”

“Oh my God, I bet he was loving it,” Harper said, leaning forward with a wicked grin. “He just sat there, didn’t he?”

“Pretty much,” you laughed, shaking your head. “He didn’t say a word until Nate started getting all protective.”

Harper snorted, “It’s so classic. But seriously, how did Nate even find you guys? Was he stalking you or something?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I think it was just a really bad coincidence. I feel like such an asshole, but it’s not like I could just—”

“Ladies.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of that voice, and you almost dropped your fork. Rafe was standing right there, looming over your table like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Speak of the devil,” Ava muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing playfully as she glanced between you and him.

Harper, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned back in her chair “Hey, Cameron. We were just talking about you. Pull up a seat.”

He smirked, clearly picking up on the tone of the conversation, but didn’t hesitate to slide into the empty chair next to you.

“All good things, I hope,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at you.

You shot him a look, “When have I ever spoken highly of you?”

“Awww, missed you too.” he said, smirking as he grabbed a fry off your plate like he’d been part of the conversation the whole time.

“Stop eating my fries,” You scowled, he just shrugged, popping the fry in his mouth like it was no big deal. “I’m gonna smack you,” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “Can you at least get your own fries?”

He smirked, “Why would I do that when I can steal yours?”

Harper let out a dramatic sigh, clasping her hands together. “I love this for you guys. Truly. I can’t wait for the wedding.”

You groaned, throwing a napkin at her, "You’re ridiculous."

Rafe just chuckled, grabbing one last fry. “I think I’m gonna like hanging out with your friends.”

Ava gave you a sly look before turning to him. “Okay, since you’re here now, and we’ve got you trapped—let’s get to the important stuff. What exactly are your intentions with our girl?”

You closed your eyes wanting to sink into the floor.

“Are we talking dates? Or are you planning to ask her out for real?”

Harper leaned forward, clearly invested. “Yeah, Rafe. What’s the hold-up? When’s the official girlfriend status happening?”

You could feel your face heating up, and you shot them both an exasperated look. “Guys, seriously? We’re doing this now?”

Rafe, however, looked completely unbothered by the question as he glanced at you. “I was going to ask her when the time felt right,” he said, “But if you’re so eager, maybe I should just ask her now.”

The entire table fell silent. Ava and Harper exchanging shocked glances, their eyes lighting up with excitement. You, on the other hand, were doing your best not to choke on the air around you.

“Wait, what?” you stammered, wide-eyed, not entirely sure if he was serious or just messing with you.

“You heard me.”

Ava let out a squeal, covering her mouth. “Oh my God, this is happening!”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now? In front of them?”

Harper was practically vibrating in her seat. “Yes, Rafe! Ask her! We need a moment to remember forever!”

“No,” You glared at your friends, “If you ask me to be your girlfriend while you’re munching on those greasy fries, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Rafe just laughed, wiping his hands on a napkin “Yes ma’am.”

What even was this? He had this uncanny ability to make you feel like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you. And the fact that he could make your friends—the two people who knew you best and knew the history between you two—just as obsessed with him as you secretly were? That was dangerous.

Harper, never one to let a moment die, leaned over the table, her voice all conspiratorial. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not like that.”

Ava grinned. “Oh, it so is. Just embrace it, babe.”

Rafe tilted his head, giving you that look .“You gonna keep denying it?”

You felt yourself blush, but you weren’t about to give them all the satisfaction of a full confession. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on your teasing. “Guess I’ll have to make that moment happen soon then.”

Ava let out a dreamy sigh. "I love love."

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igotanidea · 8 months ago

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I am Robin : Damian Wayne x reader (pt 1)

Summary: Damian x fem!s/o, who has no idea he's Robin. And who is scared of Robin. And who one day happens to meet Robin...

***

They weren’t living together, and definitely not in a leaving toothbrushes at each other’s place way. But their relationship wasn't casual either. After almost a year together, given Damian’s character traits, it could never be casual.

But Y/N wasn’t the type to rush him into anything and definitely not nagging to start sharing space. It was all right if he didn’t want to stay the night too. He was committed to his family and that was okay. Considering the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne himself, the Gotham’s persona, who tended to act a little eccentric, it was completely understandable that Damian wanted to check on him more often than not.

Who knew what kind of crazy idea could possibly enter the bored mind of a rich man.

It truly was no one’s wish to find some scandalous news from the first pages of the magazines.

So yes, she was full aboard on the idea of Damian’s checking on his father and his family.

Who seemed a little weird from the very beginning either way. The first time she met them all his siblings were nice, even awfully so, but she had this crazy feeling of being watched like a prey.

If only she knew why.

But yes, it was okay, because at least she wasn’t in a relationship with Mollycoddle, who demanded care and wanted to be treated with kids’ gloves.

But sometimes, only sometimes, she was wondering if it would be like that forever.

That she would have to sleep in the bed alone, wishing for him next to her.

That she would be forced to deal with her nightmares and loneliness and after work tiredness alone.

That almost every time she asked him to stay over he would prevaricate, giving more or less vague answers.

If only she knew why.

***

He was in the middle of patrolling with Batman and the rest of the family when Barbara’s voice came through the comms.

“Robin.”

“Yes? What is it, Oracle?”

“Y/N keeps blowing off your phone.”

Oh.

Obviously Damian did not take his device with him and definitely could not check whether his girlfriend was trying to contact him.

Barbara, on the other hand, was in charge of everyone’s notifications while they were busy during night hours, just to keep up the pretences of the batfam being completely normal citizens.

“Shall I respond?” Babs muttered to the comm, mentally rolling her eyes at the fact Damian was still keeping Y/N in the dark about his other identity. He was treating this girl seriously, it was obvious and even Batman would see reason in ensuring his blood son didn’t blow up a chance at happiness. Even with a civilian. And if not, Barbara would be more than happy to throw Bruce’s own mistakes in the area right at his face. And most likely the other batkids would gladly join her in this quest. Just for funsies. And for Damian obviously.

“Don’t you dare touching my phone, Oracle!” The last thing he needed was his more or less romantic and more or less spicy conversations with Y/N to come into the light!

“Do you want me to read the text to you?”

“Don’t you dare touching-“

“Robin, why can’t you just come forward and tell her?”

“Cause that would be putting a target on her back!”

“You are putting a target on her back by keeping her in the dark!”

“This is not—” Damian tried to argue, but never finished the sentence, realising, somewhere in the half of it, that Babs was actually true. “I don’t know what to do.” He finally settled on a deep sigh.

However, before Oracle could give him any relationship advice, Batman’s voice echoed from another line, calling his accomplices to order and stopping any personal discussions.

***

Meanwhile, Y/N was standing in front of the club, unsuccessfully attempting to reach Damian.

The party she was dragged to was a surprise to one of her work friends, who broke the news about getting married. Some of the girls decided it was a perfect opportunity for unofficial celebration and the party moved from club to club in the entire Gotham district.

It was impossible to not go. Y/N would be called antisocial, unfriendly and stiff the very same night.

But then it was late and cold and dark and she found herself far from her apartment, not sure how to proceed. Obviously, walking alone was a huge mistake, considering the location, but standing like a salt pillar was starting to turn even more stupid, as the lonely and bewildered woman unmoving on an empty street was the easy target for any thug.

And Damian was not picking up his phone or responding to texts, that started to become more and more desperate as Y/n lowered herself to almost begging for help.

When nothing came in return, with a heavy and a little broken heart she decided to try and get home by herself.

It was better than being a sitting duck and freezing to death.

***

“Robin.” The voice came through the comms again

“What do you want, Nightwing?”

“I got eyes on Y/N.”

“And why do you bore me with such unimportant details?” Damian muttered, not really paying attention to what his brother was saying. The youngest Wayne was simply too focused on his target for the night.

“Um… Robin?”

“I am busy, Nightwing.”

“Damian-“ Dick dared to say Robin’s real name, getting a bit desperate to get his attention.

“What now?!”

“I got eyes on Y/N!”

“Wh-what? What do you mean you got eyes on Y/N? She’s supposed to be home, safe and tucked under the cover, turning over on the other side while sleeping!”

“Well, she is not. She’s walking the street with someone on her tail, clearly chasing her.”

“What street?!”

“I’m going to take action now-“

“Don’t you dare, Nightwing.” Damian’s cold voice almost bore a hole in Dick’s head through the comms. “Oracle, give me Y/N location. I’ll be the only one taking the action when it comes to her.”

***

She knew she was being followed.

The man wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to it after all.

The heavy clatter of his boots echoed through the entire empty street, in perfect sync with the accelerated beat of her heart.

Headlines from the newspapers from the entire previous year flashed through her mind.

Rape.

Murder.

Assault.

Unexplained disappearance.

Y/n started to curse herself, instinctively reaching for the pepper spray, greedily clutching her fingers on the tiny, yet effective, bottle.

Though before she could actually use it, there was a loud thump behind her and she stopped with shaking hands and eyes closing, already saying goodbye to her life.

The man sure had a gun and that was the sound she heard. She was already dead. And no one will even know. She will bleed on the street, dying alone and in pain in the dark Gotham street, no news about her till the early morning and-

“Y/N.”

She spun around immediately. Whoever was talking, be it the man who was chasing her or someone else, he knew her name.

Robin. Batman’s sidekick.

The street light colours palette Robin.

Robin, the Gotham’s vigilante.

And one of her worst fears.

***

The thug was lying on the ground, blood was everywhere, including Robin’s uniform and she couldn’t make a single movement.

The most natural thing would be to thank him for the rescue and run away before he got too focused on her, reading right through her, seeing everything she did wrong in her entire life and bringing her to justice.

But she could hardly breathe let alone form one coherent sentence.

When he took a step towards her, she took a step back, almost tripping over her own feet, but miraculously finding balance.

He stopped, looking at her with a predatory smile, tilting head, waiting for a moment to strike.

His teeth shone in the dim light of a street lamp, growing, becoming sharper and she could almost imagine them tearing at her throat like a werewolf or some other supernatural creature, causing her pain for all the bad things she did and—

“You’re safe now.”

She blinked a few times, brought back to reality by his voice that was surprisingly soft. Calm, a little cold perhaps, but gentle regardless.

There was no blood, he was not a werewolf, and she was not in danger of being torn to pieces and having her insides dragged through the entire street.

But she was still scared, and not because of the thug, but because of the vigilante himself.

***

“You’re safe now.” Robin said calmly, keeping his distance. From Damian’s perspective under the mask, it was the worst thing he ever had to do in his life. Instead of rushing to her side, taking her in his arms, and giving her comfort and reassurance he had to keep hiding his face in the shadows. Unbeknown to him, Y/N was more than grateful about this fact.

“Uh-huh…” she stuttered, making Damian want to hug her even more. She was so shaken after being chased like this. After being put in danger.

It didn’t cross his mind, that she could be scared of him.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” This was not really a question in his head, but it was important to slowly assure her she was now protected.

“Uh-huh…” she stuttered again, with wide eyes and pale face, that Damian blamed on the aftermath of terrifying events.

“Okay.”

It was hard to not reach for her hand, envelop her in warmth and walk with her to her apartment. Making her her favourite tea and cuddling on the couch (a weakness he would never admit to his family). But he had to keep his mask, literally and figuratively. Therefore, having escorted her to her building and spinning on his heel, he left her alone.

Not for long though.

***

It took him fifteen minutes to change from Robin costume into regular, civilian clothes, almost searching for a phone booth like a freaking Superman, knowing that if Jon knew it, he would never let him live through it.

Meanwhile, he finally got hold of his phone and read through the desperate messages she’s been sending him for the last hour.

“Dami, please come pick me up. I’m at the XX”

“Dami, please…”

“I don’t know why you are not responding, but if I did something to make you mad, I am sorry…”

“Dami, I need you…”

“Please, it’s cold and I’m scared…”

“Dami… 🥺”

Oh no.

As if seeing her scared after dealing with the threat was not enough, now he also got the insight of what she was feeling and thinking while walking home alone.

That he left her.

That he didn’t care.

That she was alone.

And it made him speed the pace of the changing even more.

And causing Robin to make one, teeny-tiny mistake.

***

A knock on the door made her almost jump, settling on pretending she was not at her apartment. Or that she was sleeping – whichever seemed more plausible at 3 am.

“Y/n!”

The voice seemed familiar, but it could have been just the whispers of her stressed mind, combined with a desire for the presence of that one person she so desperately needed.

“Y/N! Open up, it’s me! Damian!”

She whimpered and moved deeper into the corner of the sofa, covering her ears.

He had to change tactics.

“I know where you keep the spare key. But if you don’t open in five, I’ll kick the door without the need to get it!”

An empty threat that could have only been made by him.

Four seconds later the bolt on the door rattled and Y/N stood face to face with Damian, who had absolutely no intention to put his words into action, just getting her to open.

“Y/N.” He sent her the most comforting and reassuring smile he could muster.

“Dami…” she sobbed, diving into his arms. “why weren’t you picking up your phone? I was scared and – and this guy-”

“Hush, dear.” His hands wrapped around her, taking a few steps forward so they were now inside her apartment and not in the hallway. “You’re safe now. I’m here and no one will hurt you.”

“But why weren’t you picking up?” she repeated nuzzling into him, the mix of emotions finally finding a way out in the form of uncontrolled sobs.

“My apologies, beloved. It was never my intention to make you feel abandoned. But I’m here now.”

“Mhm…”

“You’re okay. Shall I make you your tea? It will ease your nerves after being chased on the streets like that.”

“Yes, please…” she whispered and then a thought hit her. “Dami? I- I never told you I was being chased…”

“You know, it was quite evident. It’s Gotham. It’s late and your text was pretty clear-“ His green eyes met hers in a poor attempt to cover up for the obvious fail, trying to fill in the holes in the facts and silence her questions before they even arise.

But it was too late and she was too smart for being played like that.

There was no way Damian could have simply figured out what happened solely from her messages and ragged pieces of information.

His first question, right after comforting her, should have been what happened?

And how the hell did he get into her apartment almost right after she got in?

Right after Robin escorted her here?

“Dami--?” she stuttered with wide eyes, pulling slightly back, causing a little struggle when he tried to keep her in his arms.

Causing a little too much movement.

“Y/N, listen to me, I can—hey, are you all right?”

She was not.

She was not okay, seeing the familiar and well-known domino mask that fell from Damian’s pocket onto the floor in her apartment.

“You- you are—” her stuttering mixed with paleness and terror reflected in her eyes made him travel back to the conversation they had a few months earlier.

Oh, no…

How could he forget…?

to be continued...

Part 2

#damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne #batman #dc

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not-neverland06 · 14 days ago

Text

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚍’𝚜 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

A/N: Oh. My. God. I am so sorry this got delayed so many times. This is such an important chapter to me, it plays such a pivotal role in "Y/N's" development that I kept scrapping it and starting over. I didn't want to give this to you guys until it was perfect, and I think I've gotten about as close as I can. I'm predicting one more story chapter and then possibly one short epilogue.

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

Summary: Arthur's gone and you're own once more. The familiar ache of grief lingers as it always does. But the clouds must always part for light. Through death and grief, you still manage to find yourself.

It always seems to be cold at night, now that Arthur’s no longer there to keep you warm. You curl into yourself, knees tucked to your chest as you smother your face in the thin pillow on your cot. You press the fabric tightly to your mouth, trying to keep the sounds of your crying out of the other’s dreams.

There should be no surprise that you’re on your own again. Beating a dead horse doesn’t make it move, but somehow, you keep finding yourself tangled in the reins, dragged along by the memory of men who’ve long since let go. You wonder, sometimes, if your life is one bet of many between god and the devil, seeing which one of them can get you to break first. What you could have done to draw their ire, you don’t know, but you’re not sure how much more pain and loss you can handle. Your lifetime is filled with the empty graves of those you’ll never see again. Now, Arthur’s is just another headstone to add to your endless cemetery.

You worry that you’re too loud on the harder nights. But no one’s ever complained that they hear you crying and you figure they’re all probably too busy mourning in their own way to notice the way you do.

Abigail is practically an empty shell of herself without John. As much as they fought she doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself. Especially knowing he’s in jail, destined for the noose, and there is nothing she can do about it.

Karen’s not doing much better. With Sean in jail alongside John, she’s fallen to the drink. She’s adopted a fatalist view that, without Dutch, you are all doomed to die at the hands of the Pinkertons. Sometimes, looking at the depressing faces of those around you, you think she might be right.

Stuck out in the middle of nowhere, with only two rotting cabins between what was left of the gang, you are a far cry from the fearsome outlaws you once were. This is no longer the Van der Linde gang. Now, you’re barely any better than a group of desperate wanderers.

You know sleep won’t come to you tonight, you’ve been tossing and turning for hours. Any longer and you’ll wake everyone else up. Wiping roughly at your eyes, you slip a blanket around your shoulders and head toward the creaking door of the cabin. You try to keep in mind that one wrong step and the groaning wood below you will alert everyone.

Barefoot, you walk along the muddied planks of the porch and head towards what’s left of tonight’s fire. It’s not ever-burning as it once was. The gang takes care to ensure if anyone were to come looking for you all, you wouldn’t be such easy targets.

You sink onto the log before the dying fire, with embers glowing faintly in the darkness. Sparks flicker and leap from the blackened wood, a futile effort to reignite the flame. Their struggle is in vain, though, there is no life left to kindle, no warmth to revive. The fire is gone.

Light footsteps make their way towards you, but you keep your gaze steady on the flickering struggle before you. “I’m gettin’ real tired of this,” Sadie’s disappointed sigh is a familiar one as she comes to stand behind you.

“Were you in town again?” You ask, ignoring the glare you feel boring into your back. She stares at you for a while longer before letting out a rough sigh and throwing herself down beside you. The log shifts slightly under her weight and you dip towards her.

“I was,” she grumbles, something white balled up tightly in her fist. You turn towards her finally, eyes narrowed on the paper in her grasp. Her face is drawn tight, jaw set angrily as something vengeful burns within her gaze.

“What is that?” You ask, tone inquisitive but not truly interested. Her eyes dart towards you before she shakes her head and tosses the paper to the dying fire. What’s left of it, licks eagerly at the paper, trying its damndest to burn brighter.

“Nothin’, don’t worry about it. Why can’t you sleep?” Her switch in conversation is quick and far from subtle. Your head tilts slightly in curiosity, gaze switching between her and the paper that’s slowly curling up at the edges. She’s hiding something, it’s easy enough to tell from the way she refuses to meet your eyes. Besides, she’s snuck into town plenty of times, you’ve never seen her come back this riled up before.

You jump to your feet and she startles at the quick move. “Don’t,” she snaps, snatching at your wrist as you rush by her and swipe the paper from the fire pit. Sadie gets to her feet, hand held out with an expectant look as she waits for you to give her back to paper. When you don’t comply immediately, she says your name, voice low and tense, a warning.

Lips curling up slightly in challenge, you leap back as she lunges for you, holding the paper away from her. “What is it?” You tease, curiosity curling over the lingering ache from earlier.

She snaps your name again and you flinch back in surprise, “I mean it, don’t look at the goddamn paper.” You’d only been joking with her, trying to focus on anything other than Arthur. Now, there’s a familiar churning feeling of dread as you look at your friend. She’s not angry at you, she’s angry at the thin sheet you’re holding. There’s something on here she doesn’t want you to see, not for her own sake, but for yours.

Your breath quickens, heart dancing dangerously fast against your ribs as you finally look at what’s in your hand. She hisses your name but you stubbornly ignore her, frowning when you realize it’s a torn-out piece of a newspaper. It’s a smaller article from the local St. Denis paper stand, talking about a ferry being lost at sea.

“Oh, god,” you whisper, hand coming up to cover your mouth as bile rushes up your throat. You bite down on your tongue until the taste of iron fills your mouth, holding back the nausea. “This is him, isn’t it?”

Sadie lets out a rough sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“You were just gonna hide this from me?” You nearly shout, taking one angry step towards her. Her brows turn down in guilt, mouth settling into a thin line as she shakes her head. “No? You weren’t?” You demand, tone rough with grief. “You were just going to wait until I put the pieces together myself?”

“Dammit, woman, you’re barely holding it together,” she barks out, snatching the paper from you once more. She turns her back on you, shredding it into pieces so small you’ll never be able to finish reading it. “I was going to wait until I didn’t think you were on the brink of completely fallin’ apart. Besides, it doesn’t say anything about the people on the ship, we don’t know what happened.”

“We never will!” The words tear out of you, a sharp, bitter exhale. A panicked smile twists your lips as you struggle to keep yourself upright. “Sadie, your husband is dead, you know that. You have your answer. I never will. I will never know what happened to him. And it doesn’t even matter because he left me!” Your voice cracks, a sob slipping free despite your best efforts to swallow it down. “I shouldn’t care about that goddamn bastard, but I do.” You turn away from her, shoulders caving in as you wipe roughly at the tears streaming down your cheeks.

There’s a beat of silence behind you. You miss the way her face falls, her hardened exterior falling away just for a moment. She looks at you with something like understanding, pity more likely. She steps forward, her arms winding around your shoulders, trying to hold you steady through the pain. You struggle against her hold for a moment but she keeps her grip firm, forcing you to succumb to the small comfort.

You sink into her embrace, breath hitching as the grief claws its way up your chest, relentless and unyielding. You can’t keep doing this. You aren’t made to endlessly love and lose, to watch pieces of yourself crumble with every goodbye. It feels as though there should be nothing left of you- no bleeding heart, no raw edges. And yet, every time you think you’ve reached your limit, life finds a way to push you further.

But life, pain, and the ugly company of grief never stops or goes away, despite how much you wish they would.

A few weeks later

Physical pains and ailments heal. There may be scars left behind, but for the most part, you can be wholly healed. Anguish of the mind and heart is a different beast to conquer altogether. That sort of pain ebbs and flows. It doesn’t slip away neatly. It comes and goes, sneaking upon you when you least wish for it.

Distractions can dull the edge. The looming danger of death and the law from any of your multitude of enemies helps. But more often than not, the weight remains a leaden burden on your shoulders and a gnawing ache deep in your chest.

For now, the pain has numbed into something dull that makes you clench your teeth and hiss. But if you force yourself, you can find steady ground to stand on. You can keep yourself calm and sated, if you focus yourself on the anger rather than the grief.

Anger comes easier than healing. It lashes out at the world and balms over the constant pain, if only for a little while. You find yourself getting into more and more fights around camp. The forgiveness of shared grief has its limits and you’ve been testing them for a while. You’re curious how far you can push before you’re forced out by the rest of them.

Sadie’s efforts of finding a new place for you all to hide don’t go unappreciated. But this cabin feels like a cage, no matter how far you’ve come from the mud and chaos of the old abandoned camp. The tight space presses against you, the silence weighs heavy against your chest and constricts around you tightly. You hear the faint rustle of the trees in the wind, but it’s a vacuous cavern inside.

The memories of Shady Belle plague you like a ghost. The brief moments when you could almost forget everything pressing down, but now, that place, too, is just another reminder of what’s been lost. Memories of nights spent with Arthur or sitting outside and listening to Javier play his guitar are tainted with loss and rage.

Sadie and Charles provide you brief comfort, but it will never be enough to make this place feel like home. You try to shake thoughts of Arthur, what the gang once was, and everything that came before. You’ve been running for so long, from your past and who you once were, but it feels like you’re being dragged right back.

Unable to handle the suffocating silence any longer, you take Arthur’s bow out from the chest under your cot. You grab a handful of arrows and jump to your feet. Throwing the door of the cabin open, you stride past everyone lingering outside. A few people give you odd looks, but they don’t stop you from leaving. You’ve become a dark cloud around camp, your presence heavy and actions unpredictable. It’s almost a relief for them when you’re gone.

Lady’s just as restless as you are, except the dumb beast doesn’t understand that neither of them are coming back. Charles doesn’t know what happened to Diablo or the other horses when he fled St. Denis and you’re not interested in looking for them. She’ll just have to live with the pain, same as you.

“Let’s go,” you mutter, swinging onto her saddle and leading her out of camp. It’s as if a weight slips from your shoulder the further you get from camp. The tight grip constricting around your chest loosens and for the first time in days, you can draw a full breath as the world opens before you.

The thick groves of trees thin and give way to sprawling plains of grass and wildflowers that stretch endlessly. Steering Lady off the trail, you ride her hard and fast, determined to put as much distance between yourself and those suffocating cabins. Dirt kicks up under her hooves, flying up behind you as she pushes herself to the limit.

The world around you blurs into streaks of green and gold as memories and grief slip away from you. You lean forward over Lady’s neck, urging her to go faster even as she huffs beneath you. You’re racing the wind, chasing after a dream that’s been lost to you. The air lashes at your face, the sting sharp and cold. Your eyes burn and you tell yourself it’s the wind, even as wet streaks drip down your cheeks.

Bright beams of sunlight streak across the ground, illuminating the path forward. Morning dew glistening under the light, transforms the earth into a field of stars beneath your boots. You draw in a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill your lungs, and tighten your legs around Lady’s sides, signaling her to slow. Her chest heaves beneath you, each breath a puff of steam in the cold air. You can feel her desire to keep running, that shared, desperate need to escape clawing at both of you.

But she’s exhausted, and no matter how much you’d like to keep going, you can’t push her until she collapses. You’re tethered, whether you like it or not, you’re always going to be pulled back to camp. It’s a cage and a haven. Though you hate the confinement, deep down you know survival outside of it might be beyond you. You don’t trust yourself not to wither in the wilderness alone.

The sound of water rushing draws your attention and you turn towards a green hill rousing in the distance. Guiding Lady toward it, you crest the incline and slip off her saddle, letting her graze.

Below, a river carves through the land. Its rushing currents are strong enough to carry something away with no hope of return. You step closer to the edge, peering down as the sunlight dances on the water’s surface. It runs like liquid gold, unnaturally beautiful, almost hypnotic, like the siren call of a sailor’s doom.

A herd of deer drift alongside the river, their presence serene and almost make the idea of simply drifting away, peaceful. Your foot inches closer to the edge, slipping on the wet grass, and for a split second, the earth feels like it’s tilting forward.

“You don’t usually ride out this far.”

The voice snaps you back, and you gasp, spinning around. Charles stands behind you, one hand on Taima’s saddle, watching you with a calm but expectant expression.

“I can’t stand being there,” you say, moving toward Lady. Your hands fumble with her saddlebag, needing something to occupy them. His eyes flick briefly to the river, then back to you, his gaze sharp and knowing.

“You’re not the only one.” He strolls to the edge and whistles softly. “Far drop.”

You keep your hands busy, pretending to rummage through your belongings. “I’m a good swimmer,” you tell him, voice flat.

“Not that good.” His tone is clipped, a warning wove into his words.

You let out a sharp breath and finally turn to face him. “What do you want, Charles?”

He shrugs, resting one hand on his belt as his dark eyes assess you. “Thought you might want some company.” He pauses, his voice lowering. “Or, at least someone to keep you from doing something stupid.”

You wince, knowing how it must have looked. You’re hurt and desperate, but you’re no fool. The river might be pretty, but you’re not looking to drown yourself in it. “It wasn’t anything like that,” you insist, and Charles gives you a sharp, assessing look. “Charles,” you snap, exhaling in frustration. “Honestly. I just,” you take in a slow breath, shaking your head, eyes downcast. “I need a break.”

“Alright,” he says simply. “We’ll take one together.” He walks back to the cliff’s edge, dropping down to sit with his legs dangling over the side. He glances over his shoulder and motions you to join him.

Your fists clench at your sides as you take slow, reluctant steps toward him. The dew on the grass seeps into your pants as you sit beside him, hands folded in your lap. Out of the corner of his eyes, you catch his profile, calm, steady, and scarred.

The aftermath of St. Denis lingers on his face. A fresh scar cuts along his jawline, a reminder of how close he came to joining the others who didn’t make it. Yet, with some of them gone, he seems more at ease. Charles never agreed with Dutch’s grandiose visions, and though he and Arthur had a bond, it’s clear the gang’s collapse has freed him from some invisible yoke. He wears his hair in a braid lately, speaking with nearby tribes and helping them when he’s not in camp.

If it wasn’t for some odd honor-bound obligation he’s got to you and a few others in camp, you don’t doubt that he’d be riding free by now. Still, he stays with you, and selfishly, you’re glad for it.

A gunshot cracks through the quiet, echoing among the hills. Birds take flight from the treetops as a hunting group crashes through the grove below. They circle around the herd of deer and let their bullets fly wild. Their hounds snap at the flanks of the animals, jaws clamping around the soft throats of the doe.

Charles scoffs, shaking his head in disgust. “You don’t kill the does,” he mutters angrily. “Just the bucks. These men... they have no respect for the laws of nature.”

You let out a sardonic huff of laughter, gesturing toward the chaos below. “Welcome to the future of our country,” Your gaze drifts toward the horizon, where smoke from St. Denis factories smudges the sky. Even this far out, civilization stretches its claws, unstoppable. “The west is dying, Charles. The time of outlaws, of freedom, is being shackled and destroyed.”

You turn to face him, meeting the same burning anger in his eyes that’s been smoldering in your own for weeks. It’s the first time you’ve seen that fire in him so clearly- the shared, silent rage, you’ve both been trying to suppress. “Our time is over,” you tell him, voice low with finality.

His eyes narrow, jaw tight with defiance. For a moment, he says nothing, but then he rises to his feet, his movements purposeful. “Maybe,” he says, his voice steady, “but not today.”

Without another word, he strides toward Taima, tightening the saddle and checking the reins with precision. “What’re you doin?” You call after him, brows knitting together in confusion.

He gestures toward the hunters below, his tone sharp. “You want to do something stupid. Fine. But take it out on someone who deserves it, not yourself.”

His words hit like a slap, and before you know it, he’s leading Taima down the hill.

You linger in the sharp sting of what he said only for a moment. Jumping to your feet, you rush to Lady, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you mount her. With a kick of your heels, you follow Charles down the path toward the hunters, your rage finally finding a target.

For the first time in a long while, the weight around your chest lightens. You might not be able to fix the world, but you can make sure someone pays for tearing it apart. And as you ride beside Charles, you remember why he’s still here. He’s not just keeping you alive, he’s giving you something to live for.

Sitting inside the cabin, the smell of venison drifts toward you. After the incident with the hunting party, you and Charles salvaged what you could of the herd. Neither of you liked the idea of anything going to waste. Some materials were given to the local tribe, and the rest have been feeding the camp for days now.

Last night, you’d scoured the woods for herbs and other ingredients and discreetly left them on Pearson’s cooking table. You were growing desperate for a flavor other than plain meat. Judging by the faint smell of mint wafting through the air, it seems he finally took the hint.

Propped against your flimsy pillow, you run your fingers along the worn leather of the journal in your lap. For weeks, you’ve toyed with the idea of opening it, of seeing the world through Arthur’s eyes.

Here, in the rare serenity of a quiet camp, you finally give in. The journal is as you would expect, sketches, details of some of the more pivotal moments for the gang. Every once in a while you’ll find a sketch of someone and a brutally honest recollection of how Arthur thought of them. Some of them are less flattering than you would have thought, you’re almost worried for how he might have seen you.

You make it through his entries about Blackwater, the sun setting lower in the horizon as the light from the window gets dimmer. Outside, voices grow louder as people gather around the fire for dinner. You force your eyes to stay on the page, blocking out their drifting voices.

His entries after the mountains are almost amusing. He’s clearly frustrated about something, though, he skirts around directly addressing what it is. Only a few times are you directly mentioned, for the most part, he avoids writing about you. But you catch glimpses of yourself hiding in the pages. A half-finished sketch of your hand holding his, the beginnings of your face abandoned before he can finish.

There’s an entry a few weeks after you acquired Lady. A sketch of her and Diablo grazing together, their noses nearly touching as they crane their necks towards the grass. Surrounding the drawings are small notes about herbs and foliage he’d collected on his hunting trips. Among those sketches, there’s a small blurb about the horses.

Diablo seems to be taking a liking to Lady, odd pair, I think.

An odd pair, you suppose there’s not a better way to put it. Something that never should have worked, a devil and a lady, yet it still clawed and fought to find its way. In the end, though, one of them was always going to be left behind. You can’t help but wish it hadn’t been you.

A rough sigh escapes you, and you flip past the next few pages. Then, you stop. A familiar pair of eyes stare back at you.

You’ve changed so much since this journey began. Your skin is weathered, your once-pristine hair is now more often than not dirtied and knotted from the wind. Your body has grown leaner, stronger, shaped by the relentless movement and harsh diet. The woman in the red dress from St Denis was already a stranger, someone you couldn’t recognize.

Even from Arthur’s view, you still don’t know her. The general shape of your face remains. You have the same slope to your nose, your jaw still tilts the same way. But your eyes are so different. He drew them with fire, with life, with a fight you had once thought yourself incapable of.

You feel invulnerable as you stare down at her, as though her fire can be passed so easily to you. The feeling flickers and fades, replaced with the same familiar ache you’ve grown used to.

You can’t make sense of it, how he could have seen you so kindly, and yet still walked away.

“Got that look in your eye again,” Sadie’s voice cuts through the stillness, startling you. She leans against the doorway, one hand lingering on the revolver strapped to her hip.

“What look?” You mutter, glaring down at the journal. It feels too raw, too personal to keep reading. Torturing yourself with thoughts of him isn’t getting you anywhere. He’s gone. You’ve faced death all your life- mourn, move on. That’s how it’s meant to go.

“Angry,” Sadie tells you, voice soft and knowing. “Like how I looked after I lost Jake. You ain’t look like that when you lost your husband.”

You shrug, fingers tracing the lines of your face through Arthur’s eyes. “Arthur was nothing like my husband. He leaves something to be mourned,” you tell her simply. She watches you a moment longer, but when you get to your feet, her expression sharpens.

“Going somewhere?”

“Out,” you reply curly, the cabin walls closing in around you. You’re growing tired of the suffocating way Charles and Sadie hover as if they’re both waiting for you to break again. That moment on the cliff, your grief by the fire, it was all a lapse of judgment, nothing more. You’ve fought too damn hard for your freedom just to throw it away because the men you love always leave you behind.

“Need some compan-”

“No,” you snap, cutting her off. Your tone leaves no room for argument.

You step outside, the balmy evening air clinging to your skin as you head toward Lady. You don’t know where you’re going, but that’s fine. You just know you need to figure out how to live for yourself. And you can start by riding.

The moon hangs heavy in the sky, its light threading through the plains like silver threads. Clouds roll overhead, slowly swallowing the stars. You smell rain in the air, a promise of a storm tomorrow. You’re sure you’ll be holed up in the cabins tomorrow while it pours.

For now, you have the trail and the night for yourself. You let Lady take the lead, her slow gait a soothing rhythm as you settle into the ride. Normally, you don’t risk staying away from camp overnight. There are too many lawmen and bounty hunters looking to make a name for themselves. Tonight, though, you make an exception.

A loud whoop cuts through the stillness, yanking you from your thoughts. You pull Lady to a halt, eyes roaming the dark horizon. A lone rider crests the hill, silhouetted against the moonlight, his path set toward something hidden around the bend.

“Must be my lucky day!” He hollers, voice manic. There’s a flash, the sharp crack of a gunshot splitting the quiet, and a scream follows.

You curse under your breath, driving your heels into Lady’s sides. The two of you round the bend in time to see the rider poking his head into a finely adorned carriage. The driver slumps lifelessly over the reins, blood pooling beneath him.

Grimacing, you draw back into the shadows of the hill. “Alright, ladies first,” the bandit taunts. He reaches into the carriage, his groping hand causing a shrill shriek before he’s grabbing a woman and tossing her into the dirt. You grit your teeth, tucking yourself further out of sight, hoping to go unnoticed.

The glint of his revolver catches the moonlight as he climbs into the carriage. From inside, the muffled sounds of arguing give way to fists striking flesh. The woman lies with her face obscured by her hands. She flinches and sobs with each punch landed and the noises make Lady shift uneasily. Her hooves snap against the dried brambles of a dying bush.

“Damn horse,” you mutter, eyes clenched shut as the noises momentarily pause.

“Who’s there?” He calls out. It’s barely a moment before his patience snaps and he fires a warning shot into the air. “You don’t want me to come find you,” he warns, voice low and tight.

Knocking the brim of your hat down, you let out a resigned sigh and turn the corner, forcing yourself into the open. “Howdy,” you call out, trying to mimic the casual confidence Arthur used to have in moments like these. Bandits, outlaws- they all recognize each other through the ease with which they face situations like this. You only hope you’re a good enough liar. “Just passin’ through, friend, no need for problems.”

For a moment, his gun dips to his side. Then, his face is twisting into a wide, erratic grin. “Nice trail isn’t it? Perfect for catching big fish,” he says, swinging the revolver toward the woman’s husband. She whimpers loudly and grasps at the slumped-over man. You can hear his shallow, wet breaths from where you sit.

“There ain’t no need to shoot ‘em,” you tell him, voice steady despite the tension coiling around you. “There’s a fence not far from here, you’ll get more money selling that carriage than you will killin’ them.”

He crackles and it makes your skin crawl. “Where’s the fun in that?” He sneers, cocking the hammer back as he points the gun at the woman.

This man laughs, taking far more pleasure in tormenting others than in the act of robbery itself. He’s malicious, sadistic—the very picture of a perfect outlaw. For a fleeting moment, he sees something in you, thinks you might be cut from the same ruthless cloth. But he’s wrong, and there’s something exhilarating about stepping beyond the mold your family and husband once shaped for you, discovering who you can be on your own terms.

Your hand drifts to the revolver on your side, slowly easing it out of your holster. His head snaps toward the sound of you pulling the hammer back, but it’s too late. From your spot atop Lady, all you see is blood splatter as his body drops to the floor. The woman screaming lets you know you hit your mark near perfect.

Opposed to the man now bleeding out in the dirt beneath you, there’s no thrill in the kill, no satisfaction. Just the cold thrum of your nerves, the slight tremor in your hands as you slide off Lady and stride toward the couple.

With the bandit dead, the woman’s husband seems to make a miraculous recovery. He springs up, blood still streaming along his chin. “Thank God for you, sir-”

He stops short when you tip your hat back. Perhaps his ears were still ringing from one too many blows, dulling his senses, or maybe he was simply too pigheaded to grasp the fact that he’d just been rescued by a woman. You level him with an unimpressed glare. “Not a problem,” you say flatly

“Oh, good heavens,” the woman gasps, whispering your name with a startling familiarity. You freeze, eyes wide, as your blood runs cold.

Elsbeth Morton.

You’d know the voice anywhere. Of all the people you could have run into, she’s the last you’d ever want to see. Your tormenter through finishing school. She used to cut your hair in your sleep, stain your dress, and make your life a misery for sport.

Her sneer hasn’t changed, though the lines around her mouth suggest her spite has only deepened. “Well,” she drawls, voice laced with faux pity, “I see nothing much has changed for you. Still scrounging out an existence in the dirt, are we?”

Your jaw tightens. “Elsbeth,” you grit out. “You’re welcome.”

She laughs, short and derisive in a way that makes you bristle. “For what? Subjecting me to this humiliating spectacle? Honestly, I think I preferred the company of the bandit. At least he had the decency to get on with it instead of pretending to play the hero.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay calm, but she doesn’t stop. “It’s almost tragic,” she continues, brushing the dirt from her skirts as if trying to erase the sight of you. “You’re still so desperate for approval, aren’t you? Trying to prove you’re something you’re not. What’s next? A big speech about how strong and independent you are?” She snickers, tugging her husband to his feet. “We both know better.”

Your voice comes out low and steady. “You’ve always been good at pretending you’re better than everyone else, Elsbeth.” God hates you, you’re sure of it. If he doesn't, why is she here? Dragging you back to everything you loathed about your former self—the vapid, dependent, hollow shell of a woman who had once believed her worth was defined by the man standing beside her.

“Pretending?” she snaps, narrowing her eyes. “Darling, I don’t need to pretend. You can wear all the trousers you want, but we both know you’re still the same timid little girl, hiding behind a man and hoping no one notices she doesn’t belong.”

Her words cut, but they don’t sting the way they once would have. Instead, they ignite something, a fire born not of anger, but clarity.

You’re not the man bleeding out in the dirt, killing for the joy of it. But you aren’t the polished girl she remembers, desperate for a man’s approval. You’re something else entirely. Unbound by society, free to choose your own path, you’re a beast of your own creation. And if there is one thing you’ve learned about yourself- you love putting your past in the grave.

You let out a slow breath, your hand drifting toward your revolver. “Elsbeth,” you call, voice sharp enough to cut through her self-satisfied grin.

She stops, turning back with an arched brow. “What now?” she huffs. “Come to beg for my acceptance? Or just another pathetic attempt to-”

“That husband of mine,” you interrupt, voice cool as steel, “was good for one thing.” You draw your revolver, the barrel leveling with her chest. “Teaching me to shoot.”

Her eyes widen, her sneer faltering as her hand instinctively flies to her necklace.

Your lips curl into a wicked smile. “Now, how about you hand over those pretty jewels?”

She scoffs, but you see the way her grin falters, the slight fear in her eyes. You shoot her a wink and take a step closer, reveling in how she stumbles back.

“And while we’re at it,” you continue, voice tightening into a sharp, mocking edge, “why don’t you hand over those earrings too?” You laugh, waving your gun recklessly as you shrug with a faux playfulness. “Actually, what the hell, I think I’ll take that dress—seeing as you’ve gone and gotten it all muddy anyway.” You take a step forward, your gaze narrowing on her trembling hands. “Hell, even that hair ribbon. You always did like rubbing your finery in everyone’s face, Elsbeth. Let’s see how you like losing it.”

She stares at you, disbelief flickering in her wide eyes, her hands frozen in hesitation. “You can’t be serious,” she whispers.

“Oh, I’m dead,” you pull back the hammer of your gun with a slow, menacing click. The sound hangs in the air like a threat. Your eyes narrow, and a dangerous smile tugs at your lips. “Serious.”

She moves hesitantly, every motion weighted with reluctance, disbelief etched across her face. You, the woman she used to torment and cow with a simple look, now dismantling her composure piece by piece. The power shift is palpable, and for the first time in your life, you watch Elsbeth Morton falter.

“Go’n now,” you say, your voice cutting through her trembling silence. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Her husband flinches as she begins to remove her jewelry, her fingers trembling as she unfastens each piece. You hold out your hand, and she hesitates, her face flushed with humiliation as she steps forward to place them carefully in your palm, one by one, like a chastened child.

He glances at you, then at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disgust as if the sight of her submitting is too much for him to stomach.

Your eyes narrow on him, your hand tightening slightly around the revolver. The smug smile creeping onto your lips says it all—you’ll deal with him next.

You understand, finally, that you’re no longer the woman shaped by the men in your life. The husband who failed you, the outlaw who abandoned you, the society that tried to break you. People will learn that you aren’t afraid to take what’s yours anymore, because for the first time, you’re carving your own path, and God help anyone who tries to stand in your way.

Next Part end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Hell Hath No Fury Taglist: @buckysblondie @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @committingcrimes-2047

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#Arthur Morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x you #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 #Hell Hath No Fury

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janovavalen · 7 months ago

Text

his beauty .°୭̥ ❁ ˎˊ˗ aegon ii targaryen x fem!targaryen reader

summary: the houses grace has fallen victim to her uncle; the one who’s shunned and discriminated along the house, only for her to feel the same, leaving them to fix and ruin each other.

warnings: cursing, drinking (drunk aegon obvi), casual targaryen incest, hidden love, slight angst and very slight smut (not even smut fr)

words; 6.8k

based on this request

at the mid of day, the two houses; green and black, decided it was high time for them to all get together and celebrate the marriage of dameon and rhaenyra. her father; viserys, wanted him to be home with her either way without simply asking her to be with them all.

her family; y/n daughter of rhaenyra and daemon, jacaerys, and lucerys had all come together in unison. standing in the throne room next to his slightly shorter brother and his younger sister who paid absolutely no mind the what was going on around her.

his mother and father standing beside one another with his mothers hands in front of her and his father looking joyfully around and waiting.

‘oh Gods, how much longer shall this go on? my legs are tired and i am hungry’ aegon groaned while his mother shot a sharp look at him and aemond rolling his eyes and looking down and over at helaena who look only briefly then back at her own world.

‘shouldn’t be much longer, aegon. they aren’t that far from us anyway’ his father mumbled, not really wanting to reply but not wanting to leave a open space with his sons rudeness to fill the room.

aegon only agreed to coming mainly because his niece: y/n, would be accompanying the family. he and y/n were the only two in the family who got along without a fuss. he found it harder to grow fond of his nephews; her brothers.

nothing wrong with them apart from the obvious factor that they were basterds along the family, their dark hair and eyes that didn’t match anyone’s. y/n however took apart from her mother and grandmother; his fathers late wife.

her hair long and white, eyes light blue. her nose sharp, and face defined. even as a babe they were unable to tell who’d she’d came out of; rhaenyra her mother or her grandmother who’d already passed years before.

just as aegon started to wonder how she’d look, not at the age of fifteen , himself nineteen, the doors opened to show the family wearing black; dressed formally.

aegon couldn’t help but looks around only to see who’d he been looking for, y/n walking hand in hand with her mother who’d also held hands with her younger son lucaerys.

he almost felt his heart racing at the sight of her a bit taller, almost shoulder to shoulder with her mother but not quit. she was visibly taller than her younger brother. daemon walking not too far behind, right behind y/n actually.

‘my daughter has arrived!’ his father yelled happily, he began to struggle but still made his way over to meet rhaenyra half way who smiled warmly and hugged her father—‘and my granddaughter y/n’ he sighed, looking down at her while holding his hands over her slightly chubby cheeks, she still had yet to fill her face, but she still showed signs of maturity.

‘hello grandfather’ she spoke, her voice soft and almost fragile. from what he was told; she was anything but, she put a face for the audience and showed herself only for her family, she was labeled among the family but admired and favored among the people.

a beauty, a treasure, a true princess, she would be called throughout the streets, house and sometimes the maids. aegon never paid close attention to when they would whisper and gossip about himself but he always paid attention to every detail about her.

he noticed how her hair was curly and perfectly laid out behind her back, some strands of hair breaking free and tossed over her head.

‘what a beautiful face she has’ he heard a maid gasp while the other next to her agreed immediately with a nod and an adoring smile. aegon of course agreed.

‘well let’s not hold any more time, come! i have a day planned for you all, and something special for you, y/n.’ he let her grab his hand as the two walked off, alicent looking at her kids as a way of saying let’s go, which they were quick to follow, aemond walking next to aegon and helaena a bit off but next to her mother who’d slowed down her walking speed to match hers.

aegon watched as y/n and his father talked, she’d laugh loudly and lean into him as he smiled warmly along with rhaenyra who’d watched her the whole time, she’d occasionally look back to her other sons who walked a bit ahead of aegon and aemond.

‘they’re growing fine’ rhaenyra commented, talking about her younger brothers.

‘ah, yes. the tow doing well, aemond is a very well swordsman, taking after his father’ he jokes leaving rhaenyra to smile—‘helaena, bless her heart, very good at knitting however, makes fine pieces.’ he told as rhaenyra turned to look at the bunch along with y/n, aegon couldn’t help but make eye contact with her as she smiled at him, he free hand lifting to wave at him.

he didn’t know why or what possessed him to do so, but he gave a hidden wave back, rhaenyra unnoticed, but y/n grew warm at him doing so and turned her head immediately.

he felt himself smile and cleared his throat to fix his stature.

he noticed when his father got to talking about him however, was when it was whispers and mumbled, rhaenyra nodding and not paying any mind but his mother turned to him in distaste. he wanted so badly to throw himself from the open window next to the bunch or even drown himself in wine, he hopped he’d get to at least pleasure himself in that.

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sitting in the upper parts of a stone balcony, they all observed and watched the dewling going on below, crowds cheering and clapping for the people in battle with each other, and the family above sitting and watching.

aegon gotten lucky and had a cup filled to the brim with wine, he sipped it every now and again, on a regular—he’d rather down the whole cup and get more, but something in him made him want to hold some sort of decency in front of y/n who sat right next to him. her hands held one another as she almost looked like a statue in a garden.

she looked starlight forward and watched the dewl, her eyes following the people as they crossed and hit each other. did she like the fighting? did she like chaos? did she like the noise and angry men as they threw cups of wine and whatever they had in their hands out of anger when someone, they bet on lost.

he wondered to himself. his eyes moving up and down her body while he watched. the real show seemed to be next to him.

‘are you having fun?’ he heard. looking up to see y/n looking over at him with full eyes of wonder, he cleared his throat and set the cup down next to him, not without gulping some down of course .

‘yes of course, are you not?’ he asked her back, she smiled and shook her head slightly. he was a bit shocked of her giving him honestly but he was happy she didn’t feel the need to lie.

‘i’d much rather be in it, i wonder how it is, how it feels. have you dewled before?’ he was shocked, she’d want to fight with a man? and most likely her life on the line?

‘i have not, why would you want to be in it? i heard women often don’t like things like this?’ he wondered, looking at her as she hummed.

‘hm, i don’t know. it looks fun, right?’ she asked while looking at him once more then back at the fight below. he hummed back to agree but knew he’d agree with anything she said.

‘i could help you have more fun, would you want that?’ he leaned into her so he was closer, smelling the bath soap and perfumes she had still tangled in her hair and skin. she turned to him immediately, their noses almost touching each other as she looked into his eyes.

smiling she went to speak back into his ear—‘how about you leave first and i’ll follow’ she mumbled, making sure her mother and father didn’t hear. he smiled daringly and cleared his throat.

her voice ringing through his head and bouncing off the walls of his mind, a slight chill and tingly running through his body.

‘father; i wish to go to the library, i have things to attend’ he asked but somewhat stated. his father and rhaenyra looked at him as she looked at their father, he nodded with a dismissive hand and his mother scoffed—‘what things? you have nothing to do—‘

‘let him go, alicent. if the boy doesn’t wish to stay then he shouldn’t’ he mumbled to his mother who looked at him one last time before turning back to the entertainment. he felt risky and let his hand entangle itself with some of y/n’s hair before he walked past her.

she smiled and cleared her throat waiting for a bit before asking—‘may i find something to eat? i haven’t eaten since we left—‘

‘oh, my dear, i can have something brought to you—layla!—‘

‘no no, grandfather, i can find something it’s alright, mother?’ rhaenyra looked at her daughter a bit worried to let her leave but mumbled—‘very well, be back soon, don’t eat too much, dinner will be ready’ y/n smiled and kissed her mothers cheek along with her fathers who smiled, going over to her grandfather and giving him a kiss as well and as for alicent a bow.

the bunch watched as she left and sighed—‘she is your mothers image, and your daughter.’ viserys mumbled to rhaenyra who smiled and nodded in agreement.

‘yes, i’ve been told by many that she might even be my sister rather than my daughter’ she smiled while her father laughed—‘i can see the confusion, and her hair—‘

‘i know, it’s beautiful’ rhaenyra said. they were both gushing about how perfect she was and how much she will and is loved amongst the world, the beauty and grace lifted many.

alicent however, grumbled every time she heard her husband gush over a daughter that isn’t his, she wondered why he couldn’t say things like that for his own daughter or better yet his sons.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚

as aegon walked and looked behind him every now and again, he opened the great doors to the library, a table set in the middle of the stone flooring room and books filling the walls. aegon never liked reading, he found it time consuming and a waste of his precious time when he would rather be out and about living how he wanted instead of being forced to please the court and his parents.

the soft sounds of his shoes echoing through the room. where was she? did she set him up to look like an idiot? why was he so quick to go with her word and fail to think of his own actions?

just as he started to doubt her was when he’d heard the door open, turning quickly to see y/n. her hand on the door and the other by her side.

‘sorry for the wait; i had to stop by the kitchen, make the lie believable,’ she joked while looking around in awe.

‘so this is your library’ she gasped, he smiled at her wide eyes—‘yes, not much to gape over’ she shook her head and made sure the door fully shut behind him—‘what were you thinking of fun always? it’s hard to entertain me, i must warn you. the wet nurses say i didn’t smile until the age of five.’ she told him with a warm smile of her own.

he believed what she had to say without a second thought, imagining her as a babe, straight face and eyes wide.

‘i could only imagine, i heard i didn’t stop crying and begging for attention’ walking over to her as she opened a few books and put them back on the shelves.

‘i believe it’ he snorted as he gasped, his jaw dropped while she laughed, leaning into his chest and inhaling deeply for the air she’d lost while laughing—‘i jest!’ she prompted, walking to the other side only for him to follow.

‘what is your fascination with books anyway? most your age take favor in dresses and hair i hear?’ besides his sister who took favor in bugs and her time alone.

‘mm, i enjoy that too, what makes you think otherwise?’ she wonders, the book in the hand now on the table.

‘just a little ago you mentioned how you liked the fighting, most don’t take favor in that.’ aegon commented and recollected. y/n shrugged and smiled.

‘i enjoy things that catch my attention. most of my favors come from my father, he taught me things. things some girls my age wouldn’t enjoy…how could i not?’ she looked at him as if she were questioning him.

he shook his head a bit, lost in her lips…plump and red. she smiled and looked down at the floor before speaking—‘i have an idea of fun, since you don’t.’ she joked as he turned an eyebrow out of curiosity and followed as she led him out of the room.

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being led down to the outside of the house, his hand in hers that gotten entangled with hers back in the halls, apparently he was walking too slow and she wanted him to catch up so she took his hand in her own.

her skin was soft and warm to the touch, the warmth complimented his cold ones.

seeing the dragons as they stretched their necks and roared he stumbled back a bit—‘wait, we aren’t possibly riding them are we?’ he mumbled as she looked at him her eyes wide—‘of course we are! or is that too much for a fair prince as yourself?’ she walked almost chest to chest with him as he scoffed.

of course it was! at the moment anyway, he didn’t have a problem with them only that he’d never ridden one for himself, he had one himself but he barely knew it nore did anything with it, he didn’t have the time or interest either.

‘of course not, why would it be? dragon back riding is popular throughout the family anyway’ he said as she pulled him to her dragon. it looks deadly, big for its age, he wondered how much bigger it would get.

it’s scales white and spikes sharp, it almost matched herself.

‘this is smaug, he is sweet, don’t worry about him too much it would hurt your pretty head’ she jokes once again—‘i should say that to you’ he mumbled.

she smiled before barking a loud laugh, her dragon shaking its head as it prepared itself for her to mount him—‘come along prince aegon!’ she yelled, looking at the dragon as it squinted its eyes at him.

‘i don’t think smaug likes me very much princess!’ he yelled back as she stroked the dragon's neck—‘don’t be shy, he doesn’t bite unless told!’ she yelled back.

the height of the two now great, causing them not to hear each other if they spoke regularly.

aegon silently gulped before walking to the side of her dragon, it was still before it suddenly jumped at him with a snap of its jaw making him yelp, she laughed heartily as her dragon seemed to do the same.

‘he jests! come on now!’ he couldn’t believe he’d just done that.

finally getting to the back of y/n who smiled, her hair not tied back so it would be out of her hair—‘are you ready my prince?’ she asked with a hint of something he couldn’t recognize in her voice—‘only if you my princess’ grinning to her while his eyes trained to her lips and to her eyes, she grinned and turned around.

‘sōvēs!’ she shouted and just on command her dragon lifted, its wings flapping loudly and slowly around the two, his hand gripped each side of her waist as she paid no mind, his chest close to her back.

‘let’s not go far yes? we have to attend dinner soon!’ she yelled while he nodded, the two high in the air and his house looking like nothing but a small smudge surrounded by water, the foggy clouds all around consuming his sight.

the didn’t fail to notice the way she’d let go of the holsters that she was once holding—‘shouldn’t you be holding them?’ he wondered, his voice a bit quiet since he’d placed his head next to hers, close to her ear.

‘no, not now anyway, we’re mearley gliding along the sky, do you take hold of yours?’ she asked; turning her head a bit so that their eyes matched one another and her nose almost touching his, he was beyond tempted to close the space between them. her lips almost close to his but…he couldn’t.

‘no i don’t! why would you think that?’ he mumbled, he didn’t cent ride his dragon.

‘you wouldn’t know then’ she teased, turning back around as the two focused on the picture in front of them, his eyes making their way to her every now and again

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

as the two did their finish with dragon back riding, y/n kai fed gracefully and cleaned her clothes, patting them down and turning around to do the same for aegon who let her touch him, his chest and face and hair, making his hair calm from its once wild state from the wind.

‘let’s hurry, we mustn’t be late, anything will make my mother worry’ she spoke while turning and walking quickly, her hands fixing her hair and face.

‘yes, let us hurry then.’ he mumbled. wishing they had more time to spend with just each other. he loved her company and wished to have more of it.

the two of them making way inside and closing the door, she breathed heavily and soon calmly, her once rushed state appearing as though she was calm the whole time. her hair in the back however—‘wait’ he rushed.

reaching for her hand and causing her to turn around as she looked between his eyes—‘what?’she mumbled.

turning her around so that he could comb his fingers through her hair and tame it, she smiled to herself before he mumbled—‘okay’.

turning she looked between his eyes once more, her hand finding way to his own hair to fix it once more, their close proximity intoxicated his sense. he could practically taste her on his tongue.

she leaned in a bit closer causing his heart to speed up, he could have sworn he’d die right here in from of her. she let her lips slowly part and lean in, him meeting her half way. inhaling sharply as he kissing her with urgency.

her hands hand the side of his neck as he heard her hum. pulling apart and making sure not to get carried away, she shuddered a breath before smiling—‘i’ll go first, you follow soon.’ she instructed. he nodded in a daze, still lost at the thought of his lips on hers.

her half slipping from him and walking away. her appearance causing his father and her mother to sigh with relief.

‘darling girl, where have you been? we’ve looked all over’ she rushed, her hands on the side of her daughters face who shrugged and held her hands over her moms.

‘i was in the chambers, i ate too much and had to sleep’ she shrugged while her mother hummed and smiled, leaning in and kiss her cheek only to get a faint scent—‘oh dragon back?’ she mumbled leaving her daughter to only look to the side and smile.

rhaenyra turned to her father who smiled and grabbed ahold of y/n’s arm—‘come, you shall sit here’ he instructed, she did as told and occasionally looked to where aegon was only for him to make his appearance—‘aegon!’ his mother yelled.

walking over to him, her hand made its way to his bicep, gripping it—‘what have you been doing? drinking i hope not—‘ she harshly asked.

‘no, i was in the library—‘

‘they checked and you weren’t, you reek of dragon, where were you?’ she asked lowkey once more, he looked up and looked back and over to y/n who bit her bottom lip—‘alone…i was alone mother.’ he mumbled. she grumbled before letting go of him.

‘go sit.’ she instructed leaving him to do as told. he sat across from y/n who smiled at him with pity.

he wished she didn’t hear what she said, or he’d be entirely embarrassed.

‘now that we were back together; let’s eat.’ viserys told them all with a smile as daemon sat next to rhaenyra, y/n in the middle of her brothers. aegon; next to his mother,his siblings next to him in order.

he sneakily grabbed a cup of wine and drank some of it as y/n supper her juice.

they talked amongst themselves, only for aegon to grow confident. his leg lifted and licked y/n’s who looked up immediately and jumped a bit but grinned—she did the same as he laughed.

the town of them laughing and growing a bit of attention from her brothers—‘what are you doing?’ jacaerys mumbled, looking at her as she cleared her throat.

‘nothing brother’ she mumbled. aemond however seemed to know but chose not to comment, he’d rather not start any unwanted and unnecessary attention.

the dinner went on longer than usual, but it was worth his time when y/n would look at him and smile.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

later in his chambers, he sat in his bed with his new bed clothes on, his hair slightly damp from the bath he took a bit ago.

laying in bed to remember what happened earlier and who was there with him, he felt his body grow warm, shifting over to one side of him and the other he was restless.

the memory of her lips on his, the slight pudge to her waist that was squeezed between his fingers and through her dress. his chest became hollow as it grew and shrunk. his heart racing.

he let his hand gradually lift from where it was and slowly making its way down his chest, teasing himself to move further down, and down.

finely where he needed it—his hand slipped through the pants and only his warmth. it in pain, and throbbing.

making a small noise as he strayed to work itself—the thought of y/n on his mind, her eyes, full and wonder and life. her cheeks, plush and chubby, her lips, plump and warm. her taste, sweet and savory. his mouth opened in pleasure as he felt himself getting closer only to hear a knock.

jumping up and whipping his hand on his sheets, upset with the release he begged for now gone—‘yes? how is it?’ he grumbled—‘y/n’ the voice spoke. his eyes wide, he got up and ran over to the door.

opening it in a hurry to see y/n in her nightgown, with her hair done and curly, set back behind her shoulders—‘what are you doing here—come in, hurry’ he ushered her, grabbing her with the opposite hand he’d previously used.

‘i couldn’t sleep, and i wondered if you’d want to talk more? i enjoy your presence and…if not that okay—‘

‘no ko, stay, please. i’m okay with it. i enjoy yours as well’ he muttered. trying to keep it quiet. she smiled sweetly while looking up at him through her thick lashes. she looks beautiful. the look of ready for bed making him feel something, the pain making its way down to his core—but ignoring it as much as he could, he couldn’t do that with her. not now, possibly never. he’d ruin her and the future she had…the future without him.

his heart stinging him with the thought of her being with another and not him.

‘what is it you wish is talk about princess?’ he muttered as he watched her walk over to a chair next to the fire that was cracking in the open space.

‘anything, about you.’ she muttered. he felt his breath hitch as she turned to him, her open shoulder glistening in the warm light next to her—‘what about me?’

he muttered as she shrugged, sitting down and ushering him over with a finger. he followed immediately, sitting in the chair across from her.

‘anything, what is it you enjoy, dislike?’ she asked. her leg crossing one another. he couldn’t believe who he was talking to especially for her age, pure fifteen, and speaking as though she was as old as her mother.

‘i enjoy everything, drinking, sleeping—‘

‘sex?’ she muttered, he looked up immediately and felt his ears ringing, the growing foggy and core warm.

she smiled and laughed a bit—‘the maids, have been warning me of you, saying your unpure and could ruin anything you touch…i beg to differ’ she revealed.

he cleared his throat at knowing his maids have caught him in the act more than once, especially with another, he tried to hide it but they always saw and found out. knowing he couldn’t change what they said he rolled his eyes and focused on the fire, embarrassed.

‘believe what you want…i’m not perfect. not like i’m supposed to be.’ he muttered. she felt her smile drop while looking at him and she felt a sort of ping in her heart.

‘how do you feel about that?’ she wondered. aegon turned to look at her as she sat across from him, not too far. he shrugged and slapped a fake smile on his face—‘i don’t care…can’t do anything about it anyway.’

she rolled her eyes and got up, moving over to him so that her stomach met his face, he turned and looked up at her through his eyelashes—‘you don’t have to feel anything about what they say. what matters is what you think of you, aegon.’ she told. her voice was low, and stern.

he wondered if she heard something about herself, he felt his chin quiver as she let him lean his head against her stomach, he hand combing through his hair—‘it’s okay.’ she whispered.

this is all he wanted, from his mother. reassurance, and love, and affection. his arms making way up to her back and holding her body close to his face as he breathed in her scent. she let him pull apart to look up at her as she blinking slowly.

the urge running over her as she leaned down and took his lips in hers in a hurry causing him to follow, the urgency in which making it sloppy but the kiss addictive. slightly moaning in her mouth as she swallowed his sounds, he and her shared the harsh kiss of desperation.

the kiss hitting her core harder making her make a noise in his mouth, his eyebrows frowning, standing up with his body pressed against hers, he held the back of her head as his other hand held the side of her face.

she let her hand expire his chest and toned stomach causing him to pull apart—‘no, stop…’ he whispered, she frowned and kissing him once more leaving him to do the same with addiction, forcing himself to pull apart—‘y/n—‘

‘why not?’

‘we cannot, your pure, young, untuned…i cannot ruin you—‘

‘i am not young, you cannot, you won’t, please aegon—‘ he struggled to stay away, his hands gravitated to her as if she were the only thing in distance, to him he was, he felt how her body pressed against his, her growing breasts fleshed against his chest, groaning he missing her harder until he shook his head.

he couldn’t do this to her, he wouldn’t, he himself the beast, out to kill, ruin and consume all things beautiful and pure. stopping her by placing his hands on both sides of his face, she whined a bit and half his hands—‘aegon…’

‘leave now, before i make a terrible mistake.’

‘you won’t, in asking you—i need you—‘

‘no, y/n. leave now…please, please, leave now.’ he begged. she looked at him without anger but hesitated to leave, biting her swelling lips as he watched her leave silently. his heart racing, and aching.

he knew he’d done the right thing. and he hated himself for it.

that following day, they were set to leave back home; aegon however, didn’t show up for goodbyes. y/n, hunted by this, and the memory of the night before.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

years later, in the bed of his room aegon now taller and a bit more fit, his hair short to his shoulders. his body bare from the night before with a random who’d left that same night.

groaning as he turned around and slept peacefully, his mother barging into his room with her gown and presence done—‘aegon…aegon!’ she yelled, he groaned and turned with a fuss—‘what is it?’ he muttered.

she scoffed and spoke—‘we have guest, you are to be ready. now.’ she sternly told him. groaning again while he sat up, she watched as he held his white sheet in front of his naked body, cringing.

‘okay, who is it?’ he asked about the people who’d be showing up so he knew if he needed to be sober or not—‘rhaenyra and her family, hurry, your father said they should be here soon.’ she muttered, making her way out only for him to hear the key words rhaenyra and her family, meaning rhaenyra and her daughter, shooting up to call the maids to get him ready.

was she really going to be there? y/n, seeing her for the first time in years. how would she think of him now? remembering the night he made her leave his chambers. sad and alone. and not saying goodbye to her.

he felt his heart racing with worry. the maids getting him ready by combing out his tangled hair.

making his way down to the main room where his brother, now taller than him and a eyepatch on his face, his hair sleek and long beside his wife, helaena who touched and played with her fingers. people; guards and maids, arranged in their spots, his grandfather and mother standing side by side.

‘i figured you’d want to be here…’ his brother muttered while aegon rolled his eyes at his brother—‘and of course you are, always aiming to please’ he rolled his eyes while aemond ignored him, his straight back turned to the doors.

the doors soon, opening quickly as the people spoke to announce their arrival, rhaenyra and daemon standing next to each other as their children followed—y/n, behind her mother.

and Gods, did she look magnificent. her hair straight and long, braided and some out. her clothes black and matching her mothers, her brothers with their dark brown hair and red mixed with black outsides.

daemon wore black as well with his hair out, on the sides of his head. aegon couldn’t help but let his gaze set focus on y/n who paid him no mind, his heart rate picking up and hurting him almost, he almost forgot what it felt to see it. to even be in the same room as her.

‘alicent, where is my father?’ rhaenyra muttered while she got closer to him, the very visible stench in front of her, filled with child.

‘he is in his chambers, he’d been finding it more difficult to rise, i urge you to let him rest.’ she told them, her authority falling through her voice.

aegon blocked out half of what was being said, his focus on y/n who turned to look him up and down before she faced forward once more. his heart dropped. did what they share years ago mean nothing, did the whole feelings be one sided?

he felt embarrassed, like an idiot, ignored by the one person he couldn’t stand it from. his hands clutched around one another while he felt his face grow red.

he watched as they walked away and past them, y/n keeping her face forward and not meeting his eyes of which he desperately wanted them too.

‘looks as though your disappointment is prominent, who were you expecting? a whore?’ his brother muttered before walking away with his wife and mother. aegon bit his lip and cleared his throat before walking away with him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

his mind had been filled with the way y/n had grown physically; and apparently mentally about the way she ignored his very being. did the decision he made years ago affect how she feels for him today?

his heart was aching and he needed to talk to her, he needed to hear her, feel her, taste her.

sitting at the dinner table as they all ate and laughed, he felt his eyes training against y/n whose lips were unmoving, only to open and close when she ate. she seemed to lose the smile she wore years ago.

her eyes lidded a bit as if the life it was filled with had died. she drank slowly and cleared her throat—‘i will go to my chambers mother.’ he muttered as rhaenyra nodded and kissed her cheek, y/n doing the same. as she dusted off her outside had stood to leave.

be said some bullshit lie to his mother about how he’d felt ill and left without hearing her protest. going down the hall to see it was empty and turning to the other to see y/n walking into her chambers he walked quick, looking behind him to make sure nobody saw—knocking on the door—‘y/n?’ he muttered, his head a bit fuzzy with the wine he’d drank but not enough to stop him from thinning completely.

‘who is it?’ she asked through the door—‘aegon…’ he mumbled. the door opened in a hurry as she looked at him.

he felt stupid, helpless and embarrassed. standing in front of her door as if he were a beggar asking for food. in a sense he was a beggar, begging for her attention.

‘what is it—‘

‘please, let me talk to you…please.’ he muttered as she looked down and peeked her head out to then pull him in and shirt the door quietly.

looking around at the room she’d had he tried not to think of the fact this was his old room, where’d they’d kissed.

‘speak…’ she muttered , her distance far from him as he awkwardly touching his hands and picked at his skin.

‘i…you, look beautiful.’ he told her dumbly, a small smile set on his lips. she couldn’t help but feel her heart skip and race a bit while her eyebrows lifted.

‘thank you. you; betterment.’ she told him, giving him a small smile to himself. he felt his heart skip at this but knew it didn’t match the one tara ago.

‘i want to, apologize —‘

‘don’t, i don't need it—‘

‘but i need to, i want to. please…’ he begged her to hear him, she looked him up and down at his new form and folded her arms—‘okay…’ she muttered.

looking at the chairs next to the fire, he pointed—‘please, let’s sit?’ he asked her she sighed and followed him, sitting in the chair she sat in years ago, her legs crossed over one another as he sat in the one across.

‘i just, i’m so sorry. those years ago. then i forced you to leave, believe me i wanted the same, i craved your touch, your heart…but i couldn’t, i couldn’t ruin you. for your future, your legacy—‘

‘but you wouldn’t have…aegon. i came to you, i asked you, i neeed you. and when you pushed me away…i didn’t know how to feel, i didn’t know if it were one sided or not—‘

‘it was not, it is not!’ he corrected, feeling so far from her, he got up and kneeled in front of her, she looked down at him with sorrow as she felt bad for his current state, his eyes glazed over with tears and desperate for her to understand.

‘aegon—‘

‘no, y/n i have never felt this way, i will never fill this way unless with you…you, are the one thing i can feel around, you…are everything. years back—i knew i wanted you but i couldn’t have you. you are pure, and perfect. carved for the world to admire and witness, the life you need, and the life you deserve. apart from me who will ruin and destroy you, i cannot give you what you need—‘

‘all i wanted was your love…you, aegon, are all i need, all i want—‘ before she could get anything else out he leaned up and pressed his lips along hers, his kiss desperate and hungry, hers following in sync.

the tow of them kissed each other harder and harder, the years of longing for each other hurtling towards the kiss and the love they shared for each other shared.

her hand held his that rested on the sides of her now shaped and defined face, he moved his hands pulled her up but her waist, walking her over to the bed. sitting on it as she climbed onto his lap, the two of them kissing each other and y/n moving her waist along his, causing him to groan.

the more they kissed the more they craved, and she knew she had to wait—pulling apart to rest her head against his, their noses touching, he smiled warmly as she did the same.

she pressed her hands on his chest and pushed him back a bit, slowly laying down on his back as she laid on his front body, her arms crossed and folded along his chest.

the two studied their new bodies as they admired one another’s face—‘i am to marry.’ she muttered in a bit or sadness.

he felt his heart ping—‘to whom?’ he asked. gods, he hated this feeling; the feeling of helplessness. she would marry someone who wasn’t him—now of age, he wished he’d be able to be some sort of interest to her mother.

‘i don’t know. mother and father have been looking, for the perfect man…’ she looked between his eyes with longing. he looked at her as well before she pushed herself up and pressed her lips along his once more.

humming into her mouth as he thought of something he pulled apart—‘marry me…’ he muttered. she opened her eyes and looked at him with wide eyes—‘us?’

‘why not? i am to marry soon, you are now, us marrying one another will bring out houses together, us, growing together, to have babes—heirs to the throne, you queen, me—‘

‘my king’ she smiled as her lips hovered over his, kissing him once more with amazement at the new thought of him as her husband.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

the next day, aegon told y/n she’d talk to her mother. she said it would be preferable over her father, if he talked to him, he’d die.

knocking on her chambers she spoke—‘come in’. walking in to see rhaenyra, his older sister standing at the table, her hand on her stomach—‘oh, aegon.’ she stood straighter, a part of her expecting her daughter.

‘yes, i’ve come to speak with you, on important matters.’ he was beyond scared right now. she was a bit worried, siting down at the chair near the table as he followed.

‘yes what is it?’ looking at him in the eyes, he found it intriguing that her and y/n shared the same stern expression and voice.

‘i am to marry soon…’ he muttered

‘so is y/n—‘

‘wed her to me…please.’ he asked, begging. he could tell she was scared—‘what?’ she asked.

‘wed her to me, and i will give her everything she needs, everything she deserves and desires, i will give you heirs to the throne and i will stay out of your way…just. please, i love her.’ he begged and explained. rhaenyra, fiddled with her fingers at the thought but tried to think and push aside what she’d heard about him.

humming she looked at the floor then up—‘okay…’ she muttered he thought he heard her wrong.

‘i’m sorry?—‘

‘you shall marry her, and you will do nothing to hurt her. if i hear or see anything, i will have you killed and eaten by the dragons—‘

‘i understand, i understand. thank you—thank you sister—rhaenyra.’ be corrected as she threatened him but sat straight.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

walking to the chambers y/n stayed in her immediately went into her arms and kissed her deeply—‘did she say yes? huh?’ she asked urgently, he nodded as she smiled widely, kissing him deeply once more.

the two stayed tangled in one another.

their wedding not to long after the betrothal, and they were successful in having four children, three boys and one girl.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #house of dragons #house of the dragon #hbo max #hbo house of the dragon

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suuuupernovaaa · 2 years ago

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nìfnu

nìfnu [nɪ.ˈfnu] adv. silently

Anonymous Request: Can I have a story where it’s Ao’nung x Metkayina Reader who’s deaf and a sweetheart. When the Sullys arrive she doesn’t really interact with them so when they see Ao’nung being kind and protective towards her it they feel confused? Just pure fluff.

Lo'ak leans over and nudges his older sister, Kiri, forcefully on the arm.

"Ouch!" she yelps. "What, Lo'ak?"

He points, and she follows the line from his finger. It leads her eyes to Ao'nung, just a few paces down the beach from them, and he's with a Metkayina girl that Kiri doesn't recognize. She's tall, nearly as tall as Ao'nung, with her long hair pulled back into one large, thick braid. She wears a thin, shiny net over her shoulders, and Kiri notes how pretty it is. It glimmers in the sun. Kiri also notes how, even though Ao'nung and this girl are above walker, they are using the hand-speak to communicate.

"That girl. Neteyam tried to talk to her earlier, but she ignored him. And there she is, being so nice to Ao'nung. Who's an asshole."

Kiri elbows her sibling. "To you, he is. He looks like he's being perfectly friendly to that girl. And, I mean, she's very pretty."

"Why are they using the hand speak? They're not in the water."

Kiri shrugs. "How should I know? Stop elbowing me when you want something, Lo'ak. It hurts."

He groans and rolls his eyes, and turns his attention back to Ao'nung and the girl who rejected Neteyam.

"How are they adjusting?" I sign to Ao'nung, who shrugs and rolls his eyes. It's no secret that he resents having to teach the newcomers their ways, but I think it's nice. Ao'nung needs to humble himself sometimes, be more like his kind little sister.

"They are slow," Ao'nung signs in return. "I don't want to teach them. It's a waste of my time."

I reach out, pushing on his arm a little. "They seem sweet to me, especially the little one. Try to have patience with them. I would offer to help, but they don't know how to talk to me."

"Yet," he replies, and I smile.

"Yet."

Neteyam asks Tsireya about the girl, Y/N, the next day. He's noticed that she only uses hand-speak as well, and wonders.

"She can't hear," Tsireya says. "She's only spoken that way her whole life."

Neteyam could smack himself. He'd taken her silence as harsh rejection, when really, she just wasn't able to respond to him.

"Oh!" he exclaims. "She's, uh, really beautiful."

Tsireya laughs and smiles. "She is, but I wouldn't trouble yourself. Ao'nung has been in love with her for years." She throws a glance to her brother over her shoulder, but he's too busy making fun of Lo'ak to hear.

"Ao'nung?" Neteyam replies hardly, and Tsireya laughs even harder.

"I know. He has a soft spot for her, and her for him. If you want to compete, you'll have to learn hand-speak."

Neteyam shakes his head. She's beautiful, but not worth getting in a fight with the chief's son over. He'll just have to admire her from afar.

Though I can't speak, I am very proficient in reading lips. This helps me observe conversations from far away; as long as I have a clear view of someone's face, I can usually figure out what they're saying.

"Ao'nung has been in love with her for years."

That's what Tsireya said, and though she was smiling, it didn't seem as if she was joking. I dropped the plate of fruit I was carrying when she said it.

Is it true? Has Ao'nung been in love with me, and I haven't noticed?

Fruit is scattered all around my feet, and I bend over to begin gathering it again, every interaction I've had with Ao'nung recently playing over in my mind. If Tsireya is right, maybe I have been blind.

Ao'nung has always been kind, and patient and gentle with me. I knew he wasn't like that with many people, but I thought it was most likely out of pity for my condition - not out of love of affection.

A hand reaches out, picking up fruit and dropping it into my basket, and I look up to see Ao'nung himself.

Feeling flustered, I stand up, kicking the fruit basket once again, undoing all my work.

"Are you okay?" Ao'nung signs. I tuck my hair behind my ears, feeling a little speechless. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"Tsireya," I sign, "she told the new boy, the oldest one, that you are in love with me. Is she just teasing him, because he thinks I'm pretty?"

"He said he thinks you're pretty?" Ao'nung signs back, quickly and furiously, glancing over his shoulder at where his sister still sits with the newcomers.

I shove his shoulder. "Yes! Answer my question."

"Well... come with me." Ao'nung reaches out, grabbing my hand and therefore silencing me, and pulls me away from the beach. We move through many huts, past the fires, and to the edge of the beach, where the sparse forest and rocks begin. Here, we are alone.

"Ao'nung!" I exclaim, breathless. "What's going on?"

He rubs his forehead. "I had a plan, to tell you. It wasn't going to be like this. I'm going to kill Tsireya."

I stand, silent, waiting for him to finish. My heart is beating out of my chest, and my palms are shaking; I'm not sure I could speak, even if I wanted to.

"For a long time, I have loved you, Y/N. I have tried to be more... understanding, and gentle, the way you deserve. But it's hard for me. I wanted to be better, before I told you. Before I asked you to be my mate."

Unable to control myself, I gasp, and bring my hands up to my mouth.

Me, the mate to the next Olo'eyktan? It's unimaginable.

"Your parents approve the match?" I ask.

Ao'nung smiles at me softly. "Of course. When I told them how much I love you, they couldn't object. They believe you will make a wonderful Tsahik, because you are so kind and understanding. My mother will teach you everything you need to know - if you want."

That thought alone is a little overwhelming, since Ronal can be so intimidating, but I also imagine she can be a good teacher.

And really, that doesn't matter. What matters is the way I feel when I'm with Ao'nung; special, adored, loved, doted upon. I feel safe with Ao'nung. I feel seen and most importantly, heard.

"I would be proud to be your mate, Ao'nung. So proud. Of course, I love you."

The smile that spreads across his face transforms Ao'nung from the sullen, anxious, grouchy man most have come to know him as. It turns him into the carefree, light and happy man he is when the two of us are together.

I am proud to make him smile like that. I promise myself then, to make him smile like that every day, for the rest of our lives.

#ao'nung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung fic #aonung x reader #aonung fic

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aplaceforhumancorpses · 1 month ago

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🍵༘PANCAKES🥯⊹ ࣪ ˖

„⤵ MILD ANGST and fluff! „⤵ 2 / (?) PARTS „⤵ JASON TODD X READER Jason is getting settled in his new home, after showing up at your door last night. Jason is a dead man walking, but he still needs you. Read PT 1 here! AFFECTION ROTS Reblogs much appreciated

The two of you eventually found the couch. You sat next to him, putting a throw pillow's distance between the two of you. Much to his disappointment. Jason was more clingy then he had ever been before. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. A few hours passed. You had both fallen asleep sometime after midnight. That morning he explained everything as best as he could to you, his death at the hands of the joker, the crowbar, the ressurection. Despite the granted confusion you followed as best you could. He told you everything. Everything that happened from the moment he died. He really missed you, despite the two of you being dumb in love teeangers. He still saw a future with you, and you were wary to admit you weren't sure you saw the same. He was diffrerent. Bigger, taller, stronger. And somehow more alive, than anything before. “I'm sorry." You managed to say. You felt like such a coward. You couldn't handle touching him, or holding his hand.

“I can't blame you. It'll take some time." He said sadly. You could see in his eyes that he was blaming himself. "You're doing great… I really am proud of you. Just wish we could've done all this… together, y'know?" he said the last part quietly, almost a whisper. You looked down, unable to hold eye contact.

"Things are a little bit different now. You know that right? I can't change my past. Even though I'd like to." You spoke slowly. "You know, it's gonna take some time. I don't regret our relationship. Never have."

”You're serious, huh?" he raised an eyebrow. It was nearly commical. You were devestating him with every word you spoke. "I wanted us to do this forever, you know? Like… forever. You've always been on my mind.. guess I should've known things weren't gonna stay the same. You're not fifteen anymore.." he mumbled.

He had a faraway look in his eye. You wondered how much of this story he had clearly made up inside his mind depended on you reciprocating his tender feelings. But you knew this was his way of trying to comfort you, despite his broken soul. He would give you time… "Do you remember our first date?" He suddenly asked. He smiled shyly, looking down at his lap. The image came unbidden to your mind, vivid and perfect. You remembered how much effort he put into planning. He was more thorough then any man. He was attentive, and a good listener. So why were you hesitant..? Maybe it was his dependency. “Um. Yes I remember- Um.. do you want breakfast?.." You said weakly, standing up and turning towards the kitchen, leaving him to his own thoughts. "I can make us something quick…" You heard him sigh in disappointment. When you finally turned around again, his elbows were on his knees. He was curled into himself. You knew he was trying to be strong. But it was hard to admire his strengths when he looked so pitiful.. It broke your heart. "I'm making pancakes.. Do you want some? They're grainy but- edible." You offered hesitantly.

“Yeah.. sounds good.” His voice cracked. He didn’t have a good relationship with food. After the truama of his death and even before that with the joker, he hadn’t been hungry at all. He never wanted food.. and when he did it threw it up promptly. Food always felt unsafe to him. And that included food cooked by you.. which seemed ironic, because he would have worshipped the ground beneath you if you asked him to.

He wondered if he watched the whole process of cooking from start to finish if he would feel better about it. He could trick his brain into understanding he was safe.

“God you’re so gorgeous..” He sighed. “I’m tired of falling for you all over again… s’not fair. Why can’t I have you?” You paused, setting the pan on the stove as it heated up. Melting the butter into a bubbly golden liquid. There was no denying he had changed a lot. He went from 4”6 to an even 6 foot. You could see the stretch marks that painted his hips whenever he lifted his arms up. Despite your ‘disinterest’ in him romantically, you would still take small peeks and glances whenever his shirt rode up, revealing some of the new muscle he had gained.

His sudden growth wasn’t unwelcome, it was just shocking that he had grown that much within the span of a few years. Especially considering he had always been smaller than you.

But you had accepted his advances with only halfhearted interest. Even if he was a handsome behemoth of a man today. But it was hard to deny the fact that when he looked at you like he did now, you felt a lingering warmth.

He hadn’t lost his charm. He still knew how to make you blush and smile. But maybe you were too afraid of losing what you shared with him.. again..

As you began making the pancake mix he kept his gaze trained on you and the food. He was obviously enthralled with it.. “I like strawberries.” He smiled softly, watching you work through the recipe. He’d always loved watching you cook. It reminded him of home.. it was vaguely reminiscent of Alfred. Even if he hated the Waynes he still missed having a family. “They remind me of you.” He continued. “Those soft, shiny pinkish red ones…” You nodded along to his words. He was always so sentimental.. “They smell like spring.” He added, smiling slightly. You felt yourself relax at his words. He could be sweet sometimes, despite the fact he was now, 10x his size, strength, and power. He was probably better at a lot of things now, you didn’t want to know what he would do to any of the failed relationships you had in your contacts still... But it was clear he still had that innocent side that you once loved. Jason was like weathered plastic in the garden, his old self was fading, but the spots where the sunlight hadn’t burned away the old Jason todd were still as vibrant and tender as ever. He seemed happier than usual too. His cheeks had begun to lighten up again, his skin seemed to glow from just having seen you again.

The food was ready, and you brought him over to the table. “I’m not an amazing cook, but I hope it’s okay….” You handed him the fork. He was silent for a while, staring at the plate in front of him.

“I uh.. I’m usually not so good with food but this does look really good I promise. It feels like I constantly have the flu. My mind is all fucking broken.."

"You deserve a break." You said, sitting opposite of him across the table. Your fingers intertwined tightly with your own beneath the table, under the table. You tried to suppress your nerves. He needed comfort and support now, you couldn't give him more. "You're here.. With me.. That's something." You said, trying to encourage him.

“I still want you. So bad..” He mumbled. His fork clinked against his plate as he set it down gently. You took a deep breath. You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t ready to talk about your problem with the matter of your relationship. You just wanted him to eat, and try to get better..

“Jason-“ You warned.

“Do you still love me?” He interrupted. He was trying to sound calm, but he was clearly agitated. The question threw you off guard. He looked at you with wide, desperate eyes. “Answer honestly. I need to know.” You hesitated.

“Yes.” You answered truthfully, not able to hide the hurt on your face.

“You don’t even want to touch me…” he muttered dejectedly.

“You died- I was at your funeral.. I don’t understand how your here right now..” you said firmly. “I’m just… confused, ok? I thought I understood everything..” You were trembling. You knew he saw, he understood. You didn’t know how to deal with the guilt gnawing at your stomach.. You hated seeing him this upset. “I miss you..” he whispered, staring at you with pleading eyes.

You lowered your gaze and shook your head. “I’m sorry- you.. Do you have a place to stay?..”

“Are you kicking me out?..”

“Well no- but I feel bad for making you sleep on the couch.” You explained. “You’ve done nothing wrong.. I’m sorry… do you want to stay?”

He remained silent and slowly ate the food placed in front of him. His lips forming into a thin line. He looked exhausted. But he was eating the meal you had made, albeit reluctantly and very slowly. It took him about 20 minutes, as he finished every bite without looking up or saying a word.

“Yeah. I want to stay here for a bit.” He replied after he finished chewing. You nodded, relieved. He pushed back the chair and stood up. He looked exhausted.

“I’ll get you some blankets.” You said quietly, walking back to your room to bring some out to him. While searching your closet, you heard soft footsteps behind you. Your body froze for a split second. Just Jason.. Just Jason…. Then you relaxed. You pulled out two fluffy blankets. You walked back towards him, throwing them over his shoulders. He let out a content sigh at the warmth. “It smells like you…” he mused. He looked so at peace. Like you had injected life into him for the first time since he got here.

He grabbed one pillow from your bed and squeezed it. He closed his eyes, feeling the soft material against his skin. You couldn’t help but smile softly. He looked at you like you hung the moon in the sky. A sense of wonder and relief washing over his features. He turned to the doorway, making his way to the living room.

The television flickered dimly on your TV stand. Your DVD’s stacked high, mostly disney and other classics. “I love you so much..” he murmured, looking around your home.

“I…” You paused. “Know.. you do..” you trailed off, not knowing how else to respond. It felt weird hearing those words come from him. You spent nights hoping to hear those exact words just.. one more time. Hearing them now..

“Where were you?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming guilt weighing down your chest.

“Oh y’know…” He shrugged. “Just…” he laughed awkwardly before sitting down on the couch. “Just running around doing shit. Nothing serious.” He admitted. “But I was able to find you eventually. I actually used to sit in the parking lot and stare at your apartment door, waiting for you to open it..” he looked embarrassed to admit that, scratching the side of his jaw. You chuckled lightly at that image. “You should have seen it, though! I sat there until my legs went numb and then I finally decided to walk away because I felt kinda creepy sitting there watching like that..” He grinned, remembering how pathetic and childish it sounded. “But, I had to see you last night. I had to talk to you... See how you were...” He said, sadly. “God…I’m really messed up.” He sighed, dropping his gaze onto the floor. You frowned as you noticed his mood swing.

“I missed you too-… I’m glad you’re back, and I’m sorry I’m being so cold.” You apologised.

He gave you an understanding glance, “you can be pretty difficult to read these days.. I just.. I hope you can understand my intentions. I still want you.”

“Night Jay.” You stood up, attempting to run away from the topic. “I have class in the morning. I gotta get some sleep. I have a presentation coming up.” You walked towards the bedroom, but stopped. You didn’t want to leave him alone yet. What happened wasn’t fair. “I’ll be back around 12 or so.. tomorrow.”

“Goodnight baby.” He sighed, laying down on the couch. You smiled at his nickname.

He stayed sleeping in his makeshift bed the whole evening, until 4 am or so when he slipped out from the blankets and into your room. He was just getting up to check on you, but eventually it became him… getting a closer look.. getting in bed. and passing out next to you. These blankets were big enough to cover him completely, no cold feet. There was barely any distance between you.

“Night..” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. He laid down facing away from you, but in his mind he was holding you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you. ...

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leighbaye · 1 month ago

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I AM ABSOLUTELY LOVING THE MIKE WHEELER X POPULAR GIRL READER LIKE NEHEHDNDHD

its so cute i exploded

We need more 🤌

(I ask respectfully 🙇‍♀️)

— A DREAM WITH A CHEERLEADER

written by mina leigh ୨ৎ , mike wheeler𝔁 f! reader | wc 1700

summary. mike wheeler, a shy and awkward member of the hellfire club, has been harboring a massive crush on you ever since he first saw you cheering at one of lucas’s basketball games. despite his insecurities, his friends max and dustin help him gather the courage to talk to you. with their advice and a bit of luck, mike might finally close the gap between his daydreams and reality.

labels. cheerleader reader, feminine reader, use of y/n, shy and awkward mike, hellfire mike, reader is into it though.

warnings. mild language, social anxiety, fluffy awkwardness.

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. based on faye webster’s song “dream with a basketball player.” merry christmas those who celebrate & happy new year.

i saw you first during lucas’s game last month. you were standing at the edge of the court, wearing your cheer uniform, waving your pom-poms in sync with the rest of the team. but for me, you didn’t blend in — you stood out. the way you smiled, like it didn’t matter if your team was losing or winning, it hit me. i couldn’t look away.

since then, it’s been … bad.

❝dude, you have to stop staring,❞ dustin said during lunch one day, waving a fry in front of my face. i blinked, realizing i’d been watching you across the cafeteria again. ❝it’s borderline creepy at this point.❞

❝i’m not staring,❞ i muttered, looking down at my tray, heat rising to my face.

shit, max is here. why did she decide to sit with us today?

max, sitting next to him, rolled her eyes. ❝no, dustin’s right. you’ve been mooning over her for weeks, mike. either do something about it or stop whining.❞

❝just because i don’t sit with you everyday doesn’t mean i can’t see how obvious you are drooling over her.❞

❝i’m not whining,❞ i protested, but they both gave me a look. i groaned, slumping forward. ❝it’s not like she’d ever go for someone like me, okay? she’s …she’s perfect. and i’m just —❞

❝a nerd?❞ max supplied helpfully.

❝thanks,❞ i grumbled.

dustin leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to deliver some top-secret intel. ❝listen, y/n’s cool. cooler than you, sure. but she’s not, like, untouchable. she talks to lucas all the time, right?❞

❝lucas is on the team.❞

❝exactly. so you already have a connection.❞

max smirked. ❝just go up to her and say, ❝hi, i’m mike, and i think you’re really pretty. want to hang out sometime?❞ see? easy.❞

❝not easy,❞ i muttered. ❝she’d laugh in my face.❞

❝or,❞ dustin said, ❝she might not. look, dude, the worst that can happen is she says no.❞

i didn’t want to admit it, but they were right.

it took another week — and a shit ton of convincing — but eventually, i agreed to let them help me.

max decided the best plan was to catch you after school when you weren’t surrounded by your cheer squad or basketball players. i was already regretting this.

we spotted you at your locker, stuffing books into your bag.

❝okay,❞ max whispered. ❝just walk up and say hi. be normal. don’t overthink it.❞

❝don’t overthink it,❞ i repeated under my breath. easy for her to say. my palms were sweaty, and my heart was pounding like i’d just run a mile.

i approached slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last.

❝uh, hey,❞ i blurted out when i reached you. smooth. real smooth.

you looked up, surprised but not annoyed. ❝oh, hey. mike, right?❞

you knew my name? that alone nearly made me short - circuit.

❝yeah, that’s me,❞ i said, my voice cracking slightly. i cleared my throat. ❝uh, i just … i wanted to say hi.❞

❝hi,❞ you said, smiling. ❝how’s it going?❞

❝good! great. i mean, yeah. you?❞

you laughed softly, and it was the nicest sound i’d ever heard. ❝i’m good. tired, though. practice was brutal today.❞

❝yeah, i bet,❞ i said, nodding like an idiot. then, before i could chicken out, i added, ❝so, uh, i was wondering if … maybe you’d want to hang out sometime? like, get a milkshake or something?❞

your eyebrows raised, and for a second, i thought i’d made a huge mistake. but then you smiled again, and it felt like the sun had come out.

❝sure, mike. that sounds fun.❞

❝really?❞

❝really,❞ you said, pulling a pen from your bag and scribbling your number on a scrap of paper. ❝call me, okay?❞

i nodded, speechless, as you handed me the paper and walked away.

later, dustin and max found me standing in the same spot, still holding the paper like it was a golden ticket.

❝you did it!❞ dustin cheered, clapping me on the back.

max smirked. ❝told you it wasn’t that hard.❞

maybe it wasn’t. but to me, it felt like a miracle.

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jareaul0ver · 9 months ago

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How about a Nika fic where reader feels intimidated by nika when nika first tries to make moves on her and nika can’t figure out where it’s going wrong bc usually no one can deny Nika?? but it gets flufffffy

wc: 1.4k warnings: no warnings really, just nika and reader making each other nervous pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

The First Attempt

The UConn women's basketball team was practicing in the gym at the same time as the cheerleading squad. It was the beginning of the new season and both groups had their sights set on nationals.

Junior year was an exciting start for you. Last year you had been told that the chances of you being the cheer captain were incredibly high, and you certainly weren't disappointed.

The second that tryouts had ended, you were appointed with the title of being the cheer captain. The pressures put on you were high, but you knew you could handle it.

The first practice of the year was coming to an end and you packed up your things. "Great job today guys, let's keep it up." You said to your girls before going to finish gathering your things.

Across the gym, the basketball girls were packing their things up. You usually coordinated your practices so they would overlap. It was more convenient for everyone this way.

“Just go talk to her, dude.” Paige gently shoved Nika’s shoulder, and the brunette shook her head.

“You think I should?” She stated over at you as you packed your bags. Paige kept encouraging Nika to talk to you, so eventually she came over. “Hey.” She said from behind you.

You spun around and took a step back when you saw her. “Oh, hi.” You responded quietly.

The two of you just stared for a moment and you felt your face heating up. There was a beautiful woman standing in front of you, and you froze. She was tall, pretty muscled from playing basketball, and you knew how rough she was on the court from watching her games.

“How- how are you?” Nika nervously scratched at her arm for a moment before letting her hands hand stilly at her side.

“I’m good.” You said curtly. All you could wonder was what the fuck are you doing. “Sorry, I’m in a little bit of a hurry.” You muttered as you spun back around and finished packing your things.

Nika nodded. “Right, yeah, go ahead. Sorry.”

You shoved the last thing into your bag, then sipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder. “I’ll see you around.” You glanced at her before leaving the gym.

Nika closed her eyes and groaned before making her way back over to Paige. “What am I doing wrong, P?”

She snickered. “As if I’d know.” Nika hit Paige on the arm and the blonde scoffed. “Rude. Don’t ask for my help anymore.”

“It’s not like your advice helped me. She basically said ‘oh, I don’t want to talk to you, goodbye!’ without actually saying it!” Nika groaned and covered her face with her hands.

Paige patted her on the back and chuckled. “You’ll get her next time.”

The Second Attempt

Coach Geno insisted that the team should invite the cheer squad to a little get together, that forming a tight bond this season would be good for everyone.

“You should ask Y/N. Try and talk to her again.” Paige whispered to Nika. The brunette glared at her and Paige shrugged. “Just saying, at least you’d have a real reason to talk to her.”

She sighed. “Fine.” After Geno had gotten done with them, Nika rushed out of the room and just caught you as you were leaving the gym. “Y/N!”

She called out and you froze the second you heard her voice. You slowly turned around and watched as she jogged over to you. “Hm? Oh, hi.”

“Hey, uh,” she panted, “Coach Geno wants us to get together sometime.”

You froze. “He wants what?”

She shook her head. “I- I mean, the cheer squad and the basketball team. For bonding, y’know.” Nika cursed herself in her head.

You stared at her before nodding. “I’ll let the girls know.” You gave her a brief smile before turning around and leaving.

Nika sighed and walked over to Paige and Azzi with her shoulders slumped. "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Azzi said. "Maybe she just... is nervous?"

"Ha, right." Nika sat on the nearest bench. "This has never happened before," she mumbled.

Paige sat next to her. "Just try and talk to her when everyone's together, 'm sure she doesn't hate you."

The Final Attempt

Coach's plan to get everyone together worked. You all decided to hang out in Paige's apartment, since it was decently sized and she was getting drinks.

Most of the basketball team was there already, waiting for you and the cheer squad to arrive. Nika had been preparing to talk to you by getting a shot or two in her system, giving her the confidence boost she needed.

Eventually there was a knock at the door and Paige went to get it. "Hey." She said to you and the rest of the squad standing behind you.

"Hey, Paige. Thanks for hosting." She gave Paige a warm smile and the blonde simply nodded before inviting everyone in. "Brought this, by the way." You held up a bottle of vodka and Paige smirked.

"That's what I'm talkin' about."

Everyone got settled in and you had a cup filled with vodka and Redbull in your hand. You talked to a few of the girls on the team, but your eyes kept pulling you to look at Nika.

Almost every single time you looked, she was staring at you. You swallowed nervously and looked away, resuming your conversation with whoever you were talking to.

You finished your drink and went over to get yourself another one. Everyone was gathered in the living space, and you were alone in the kitchen. Nika finally took this opportunity to talk to you after hyping herself up in her head the entire time you've been here.

"Hi." She said as she stood next to you at the kitchen counter.

"Hi," you spoke softly. You kept your eyes off of her and poured yourself another drink. Nika sighed and grabbed the bottle from your hand, forcing you to look at her as you reached to grab it back. "Give it."

She shook her head. "Not until you tell me why you brush me off every time I talk to you."

Your face contorted into one of confusion. "What?"

"Every time I try to talk to you, you say one or two words and then leave. Did- did I do something to you? Do you hate me?" Her words came out more sad and desperate than she meant, but she didn't care. She needed to know what was going on.

"No, Nika, that's not-" You bit your bottom lip and reached for the bottle, putting you two in close proximity. "That's not it at all. Now give me the bottle."

She held it away from you and you groaned. "Then what is it? Is my vibe off?"

You couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. She was all you've wanted since freshman year, but you two only spoke a few times last year, and now this year. You couldn't bring yourself to get close to her, she scared you a little.

"God, no! You're just-" You took a deep breath. "You're a star basketball player, you're nice, you're really hot, and you make me so fucking nervous that I can never find any words to say to you," you blurted in one long jumbled sentence. "You make me nervous."

A smug look crossed Nika's face. "I make you nervous?" She placed the bottle on the counter next to her and cocked her head to the side. "Really?"

Your face flushed in embarrassment and you looked away from her. "Yes, you do. Happy now?"

She snickered. "And here I was thinking you hated me." Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

"Definitely not that," you mumbled before looking up at her. You didn't realize how close the two of you were until now. You could feel the heat radiating off of her. She towered over you, which made you even more flustered than before.

"So you wouldn't mind if I..." her hands landed on your waist and you shuddered. "If I kissed you?"

Your lips parted and you shook your head. "Maybe take me out to dinner first and we'll see." You teased her. She laughed a bit but leaned down anyways and brushed her lips over yours.

You made the final move of pressing your lips against hers and, oh, it was perfect. Your mouths fit together just right, and your hands rested comfortably on the back of her neck, playing with her hair a little.

She pulled her soft lips away from yours and hummed. "Fucking finally!" Paige yelled from the other room. Nika shot her a glare and looked back at you.

"I've only been talking to her about you for months." She flushed a little and you giggled.

"Guess it all paid off in the end, huh?"

#nika muhl #uconn wbb #lgbtq #nika muhl x reader #seattle storm #wlw #wnba

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planetkiimchi · 3 months ago

Text

i knew it first | z.cl

"i'm in love, i'm in love, i'm in love with the boy next door." (series masterlist)

featuring: neighbour!chenle x gn!reader, cameos by johnny, winwin, joy, suzy, dokyeom, renjun, jisung, ningning

word count: 15278 words

warnings: a little bit of swearing (i tried to keep it to a minimum), food mentions, some angst bc would it really be my fic if i don't give my characters major issues am i right 🤩

summary — chenle's pretty sure his crush on you is obvious. it's a little stupid, really, just how in love he is with you. but it's even more foolish how you don't seem to realise until he confesses properly. you can lie and say you knew he liked you all along, but he'll stand by the fact that he knew you liked him first.

author's note: happy birthday, my wonderful zanna @slytherinshua <3 thank you for being the most supportive friend EVER, for always being open to doing face quizzes (and for being so patient when i get them wrong), and for always trying to engage everyone in the server or the community. i hope you have the most wonderful month and that you get all the good things you deserve!

At 22, you were accustomed to solitude. Your career path as an actor had started ever since you were a child, and you were one of the few kids on set who didn’t cry when your parents left. Your parents took this as a sign to enrol you in acting classes, and you joined theatre in high school.

By the time you graduated high school, you were performing in musicals locally, often practising with the rest of the crew late into the night. Each run needed to be as perfect as possible, and the pressure could get to your head sometimes, which was when you would take a step back, speak to your friends—especially Winwin—and find your footing before you went back to practising.

You had quite a strong support system within the performers, but outside of them, you didn’t have anyone else.

You moved out of your parents’ house shortly after you turned 22. While it was, in some sense, a financial burden for your family, you and your parents had agreed that it was worth it, especially since your schedule was erratic and you often came home late, disrupting their sleep. It wasn’t like you saw them often anyway, so you all came to the conclusion that it would be better for you to move out.

“Sicheng,” you called, winding through the house with a mug in your hand. “Sicheng, where are you?” Winwin emerged from the living room, phone in hand, his eyebrows raised. “What?” “Oh, I just had a question.” Winwin turned away, taking a seat on the couch and crossing his right ankle over his left knee. “Sit.” Once you were seated, he turned his body to face you, and with a posture of attentiveness, asked, “What’s up?” “Should I have a housewarming party? I don’t know if it’s a good idea, what if the neighbours are my fans and they harass me for the entire time I live here once they find out who I am?” Winwin looked at you curiously. “Okay, wait, slow down. You don’t even like parties.” You avoided his gaze, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Well, yeah, but—” “No buts. If you don’t want a housewarming party, then just don’t hold one,” Winwin concluded, leaning back into the couch.

“But… It's not that I don’t want to host a housewarming party either. I do want to celebrate having a new house, it’s just…” “Socially exhausting?” Winwin supplied.

“...yeah.” Winwin picked up a pen from the coffee table, spinning it around as he hummed. “What kind of party do you want to have?” “Maybe potluck?” “That could work. You could send invitations to whichever friends you want to come, and ask them each to bring some food. It’ll just be food and talking, and maybe some wine. I’ve got a karaoke machine at home, I could bring it over and we could set that up. It’ll be fun!” “Really?” you asked. “You’d do that?” “Yeah, why not?” “I mean, it’s not like you like parties either…” “You’re my friend, Y/n. It’s not socially exhausting being with you.. The rest of them are my friends too. It’ll be just a hangout for us,” Winwin promised.

“Okay.”

Two weeks later, cars started pulling into the carpark near your apartment, and you watched the familiar cars on the street from your window. “They’re here!” you exclaimed, going into the kitchen where Winwin was removing the lasagna from the oven.

“Oh?” Winwin placed the lasagna on the table, just as the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Winwin let out a laugh at your jittery state as you hurried to the door to open it. Jaehyun stood there at the door, a bouquet in hand, with Joy by his side.

“Welcome! Come in, come in,” you told them, gratefully receiving the flowers. Winwin led them into the house as you went to find a vase for the flowers. Joy set the food down on the dining table, remarking that the lasagna smelled heavenly.

Slowly, the guests began to arrive, first Suzy, followed by Dokyeom shortly after. Johnny, the company manager, was among the last few to arrive, but he was easily forgiven by virtue of his dazzling smile and the expensive wine he had brought.

Once everyone had arrived, the plates were distributed and food was served. Over the hot, steaming meal, everyone shared their congratulations, and you received a number of compliments on the lasagna.

The conversation proceeded to take the direction of the musical you were currently practising for, and several jokes that you should end practice earlier were made, but Johnny shook his head and smiled knowingly (you all knew that meant practice could very well be extended instead of shortened).

Once the food was finished, Winwin headed to the living room to set up the karaoke machine, while the guests brought the soiled cutlery to the kitchen, where they placed it in the sink before visiting the washroom.

As they started heading towards the living room, the doorbell rang, and you furrowed your brows in confusion.

You made your way to the door, not bothering to look through the peephole before opening it. In front of you stood a young man about your age, his hair slightly dishevelled, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

“Who’s that?” Winwin called. When you continued to remain silent, he set down the microphone and went over to take a look.

“Hi,” the man said. “I’m Chenle, your neighbour. My family and I noticed there were some guests earlier, are you having a housewarming party?”

You swallowed your saliva and nodded hesitantly. “Yes. Sorry, were we being too loud? I can tell them to keep their noise level down.” Personally, though, you hadn’t thought that you had been noisy. Was your neighbour one of those people that could only function in absolute silence? “Oh no, no,” Chenle laughed, waving his hands in front of him to dispel the thought. “You haven’t been noisy at all. We just wanted to pass you some pizza—my family runs a pizzeria, you see—to say welcome to the neighbourhood! Our flat is just opposite yours,” he pointed.

“Oh, wow. Thank you!” you replied.

“It’s no problem. Well, I’ll be going. Enjoy your party! I’ll see you around.” Smiling, Chenle waved at you and went back home.

You turned to Winwin, shutting the door before you whisper-yelled, “He’s cute!”

Winwin rolled his eyes and pulled on your ear, ignoring your cry of pain. “Honestly. What goes on in your head?”

Before you could reply, a screech from the living room caused both of you to turn your heads. You burst out into laughter as you caught sight of Johnny attempting to belt out a high note, his face red with exertion. Your friends were gathered around him in a circle, legs crossed, with Johnny being the sole exception. He stood in the centre, fist clenched, bent over as he sang into the microphone—that is, if it could be considered singing.

Breathless, he handed the microphone over to Joy, who blessed your ears with her melodious voice, amidst the dying laughter. Dokyeom handed him a glass of water, and he gulped it down, leaning against the sofa with a dramatic sigh.

You brought the pizza with you as you and Winwin headed over, settling onto the carpet as the song continued to play.

Dokyeom raised his head, locking eyes with you. Once you were seated, he tilted his head towards the door. “What was that about?”

“My new neighbour.”

“He’s cute,” Dokyeom commented.

“I know!” you replied, rolling your eyes. Opening the pizza box, the smell of freshly cooked pizza filled the air, and you handed a slice to Joy, who was staring at the pizza hungrily.

“Want one?” Dokyeom nodded, and you handed him a slice, before biting into a slice of your own pizza. The gooey, cheesy slice melted in your mouth, and you sighed happily.

“I told Winwin that the guy was cute, but he brushed it off,” you tell Dokyeom.

“He probably doesn’t want you replacing him,” Dokyeom said. “Want a lollipop?”

You received it, sucking on it contemplatively. After a moment, you took it out of your mouth, reaching over to tap Winwin on the shoulder.

“You know I’d never replace you, right?”

Winwin’s brows knitted together in a moment of confusion, but that expression was quickly replaced by one of amusement. “I know.”

“Good.” You retracted your hand, leaning forward to squint at the lyrics as the microphone was passed to you.

As the night came to an end, your friends gathered up the empty containers strewn about, collecting their belongings. More than one of them downed a glass of water, proceeding to head to the bathroom afterwards.

You wiped down the table before sending your friends off, waving at each one of them in turn.

“Thank you for coming,” you repeated.

“Thank you for inviting us!” Suzy smiled.

“Tell us about that cute boy,” Dokyeom said with a wink, scurrying off before you could respond.

“What— Seokmin!” Winwin reached out to place a hand on your shoulder, and you turned to face him.

“Do you need help with anything else?”

You shook your head. “Go home and get some rest.”

Winwin gave you a quick hug, waved and left.

With a sigh, you plopped onto the couch, gaze trailing over the empty house. The exhaustion was just beginning to catch up to you, and you let out a tired yawn. You ran a tired hand through your hair, sweeping it out of the way as you went into the kitchen, taking up a wet sponge and squeezing out a bit of dish soap before scrubbing at the dirty dishes.

Once that was done, you wiped down the table, swept the floor, and threw all the trash into the bin. Then, you bagged your trash and took it out.

As you locked your door, you noticed a piece of paper hung to the doorknob by a string. You removed it, taking a look at the words written on it.

dear neighbour,

i realised i forgot to get your name! anyway, here’s my number so you can contact me whenever.

chenle

You pocketed the piece of paper, and as you passed by Chenle’s house, you smiled a little at the shoes neatly placed on the shoe rack—mostly sneakers—wondering which ones were his.

After taking out the trash, you took a long, hot shower, letting all the tiredness dissolve from your body. You blow dried your hair, clambered into bed, and looked at your phone, which was blowing up with pictures from the earlier party.

You sent a quick ‘thank you’ message, resolving to go through the photographs slowly the next day, and sent a text to Chenle instead.

unknown: hey chenle, this is y/n, your neighbour :)

He replied almost immediately.

chenle (cute boy next door): hey y/n! it’s quite late, get some rest first? i’d love to hear how you're settling in y/n (neighbour): yep, you too

Placing your phone on the nightstand to be charged, you soon drifted off to sleep.

Hands braced against the floor, you did two back walkovers while the music slowly trailed off. The last note faded as Dokyeom’s voice quietened.

“Halt!” The two of you turned to the direction of the sound, and you took a few tentative steps back until you were next to Dokyeom. Dressed in a shirt and jeans, Winwin wasn’t very intimidating, but his tall stature and serious expression made up for it.

The silence ensued for a few seconds before Winwin sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. “Sorry. Line?”

The lights blinked on, and Johnny emerged at the foot of the stage. All eyes turned to him as he spoke, not loudly, but clear enough for his voice to travel.

“Alright, let’s take 5. Sicheng, you okay? Do you need to read your lines?”

Winwin nodded, then leapt down from the stage, grabbing his water bottle from one of the front row seats. He drank slowly before replacing his bottle and snatching up his script. The neon yellow highlights blurred as he shook out the script in frustration, flipping to the page he needed.

“Halt, what do you think you’re doing, you street rat?” he muttered, repeating it over and over again under his breath.

You sat on the edge of the stage with Dokyeom, catching your breath. You took a swig of water and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Dokyeom nudged you, and you turned to face him. “Hm?”

“How are you getting home? Is Sicheng still going to drop you off?” When you lived with your parents, you would always carpool with Winwin, since your house was on the way home for him.

You shook your head. Since moving house, it was no longer convenient for Winwin to drop you off. “Suzy offered to drop me off,” you told Dokyeom.

Dokyeom nodded. “That’s good. It isn’t safe to make your way home alone when it’s dark.”

“I know, Mum.” Dokyeom rolled his eyes at the jab. Checking his watch, he got to his feet, extending an arm to help you up. You took his hand and he pulled you to your feet with ease, the two of you setting your bottles down out of the way before assuming your places again.

Winwin hurried up the steps to the stage, eyes scouring the floor for the yellow crosses that demarcated his spot, and heading into the wing just next to it.

Johnny clapped his hands thrice, the loud sound resounding throughout the studio. “Ok everybody, breaktime is up! Let’s get back to rehearsing.”

The rehearsal ended at 10pm, which meant it was already 11 when you stepped out of the elevator at your floor. You were slightly delirious from the lack of sleep, having stayed up late the night before to tidy up your house. Rocking on your heels, you pressed a hand to your temples to ease the headache building up behind your eyes, taking a few steps forward.

Walking proved to be a challenge, as your foot came into contact with an obstacle. Blinking your bloodshot eyes, you identified the obstacle as a delivery box.

Several delivery boxes, in fact. No less than 10 delivery boxes were strewn across the corridor between your apartment and Chenle’s. You shut your eyes for a brief moment of reprieve, and when you opened them again, the boxes remained.

So you weren’t hallucinating. Frowning, you slowly weaved your way between the cardboard boxes. At your door, you braced one hand against the door frame as you removed your shoes, placing them on the rack and locking the door behind you.

You contemplated asking Chenle to move the boxes, but it was late and you didn’t intend to disturb him. You hadn’t actually seen him for the whole day, you realised. Perhaps his working hours and yours didn’t overlap.

y/n (neighbour): pls move ur delivery boxes 🙏

Not long after sending the text, you drifted off to sleep.

You woke the next morning to banging against your door. Concerned, you flipped your phone screen up, only to realise that it wasn’t even noon yet. With a long, drawn out groan, you rubbed your eyes as you slid into your slippers and padded across the room.

You pulled the door open, stifling a yawn, seeing your friends outside.

“It’s too early for this,” you mumbled, heading back inside before they could say anything. Dokyeom hurried inside after you, yelling for you to hurry as you disappeared into the toilet.

You emerged from the bathroom, dangling your earrings against your earlobes as you looked at yourself in the mirror, deciding which accessories fit your outfit best.

Dokyeom stood by the door with his arms crossed, shouting, “Hurry up! We’ve got to get there before they break for lunch!”

You groaned, putting the other sets of earrings back into the drawer and slipping the ones you'd chosen into your piercings. You pulled your socks on in a hurry, not even bothering to put your shoes on properly as you rushed out after your friends. Your fingers slipped a couple of times as you tried to insert the key into the keyhole, until you finally managed it, while Joy yelled at you from inside the elevator to move quickly.

You rushed into the elevator, kneeling to tie your shoelaces and put your shoes on properly. Then it hit you.

"What kind of lunch place closes during lunch time?"

Dokyeom scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, about that... I kind of just said the first thing that came to mind that I thought would make you hurry, and it worked, didn't it?"

"Seokmin! Ah, never mind. It's fine." You stood up properly, adjusting the strap of your shoulder bag as you followed your friends out. You got in Jaehyun's car, with Dokyeom navigating in the passenger seat.

The ride wasn't long, and you pulled up to a deserted building, with "One Minute Pizza (一分钟披萨饼)" written in a deep shade of red.

You stepped out of the car, followed by Joy and Dokyeom, while Jaehyun drove off to find a parking lot in the carpark. Dokyeom took the lead and you followed behind him as he headed to the counter to look at the menu.

"Chenle?"

To your surprise, one of the workers at the counter taking orders was none other than the neighbour you had messaged the night before.

His expression remained friendly, the customer-service smile fixed upon his face as he finished attending to the customer in front of you. As you and your friends moved forward, he caught sight of you, breaking into a genuine smile.

“Y/n! Welcome, what can I get you?”

Dokyeom launched into his order, ordering enough pizzas for all of you to share. Joy would be stealing everyone else’s food anyway, so Dokyeom didn’t bother ordering anything for her. Once he was done ordering, Chenle repeated the order back to him, and Dokyeom took the receipt and went to sit down.

You lingered a little while longer, standing by the side so the next customer in line could move forward. After calling out the order to the kitchen, Chenle looked at you, eyes rolling up as he recalled something. “Oh, right! I moved the boxes. Did you get my text?”

You glanced at your phone, realising that you had several unread texts. You clicked on the one from Chenle, which read:

chenle (cute boy next door): mb 😓😓 just cleared them!

“Yeah, I did! Thanks for that, by the way.”

“No problem. My mum has a bit of a consumption problem, so the delivery boxes are a common hazard. Just let me know next time, and I'll move it for you, yeah? Don't want you to trip and fall.”

“Okay.”

Chenle smiled, apologising to the customer for the wait before taking their order.

Jaehyun joined you as you walked to your table, nudging your shoulder and whispering conspiratorially, “Who’s that?”

“My neighbour.”

“Oh, the cute one?” You whipped your head, hair smacking into your forehead. You brushed your bangs out of your eyes as you gaped at Jaehyun, mortified.

“You heard that?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “You were speaking about it with Dokyeom while you were sitting right behind me. It wasn't hard to overhear."

"Jae!"

Jaehyun grinned, sitting down opposite you, half his ass off the chair as he squeezed in next to Joy, stuffing a slice of pizza in his mouth. His voice was muffled as he said something about you being one of the most obvious people he'd ever met.

Joy leaned forward, elbows propped up on the table, chin resting on her hands as she darted her eyes pointedly in Chenle's direction. "So, what's the plan?"

"What plan?"

Dokyeom squinted at you, brows furrowed. "Y/n, please don't tell me you're that dense." When you continued staring blankly at him, he pulled away with a sigh. "I guess you are. The plan to make Chenle your boyfriend, of course."

You choked on your drink, coughing violently while Dokyeom patted your back. Sputtering, you turned to face the culprit, who only looked at you innocently.

"Lee Seokmin!" you whisper-yelled. "Can you please not say that while he's right there?"

Dokyeom nodded appeasingly and waved a hand at the food. "Okay, okay. Go on and eat, we're actually going to be late if you're slow."

You checked your watch and scarfed down the pizza. However, Joy, who had already finished eating, had other priorities. Leaning back, she crossed her arms and said seriously, "I personally think you should find out if they have neighbours’ meetings. It'd be great in helping you assimilate into the community, while also getting to know a certain someone a little better."

Between bites of food, you considered this proposition before deciding that it wouldn't do you any harm. You nodded to acknowledge Joy's suggestion, before you finally finished eating and everyone stood up to return the trays while you wiped your mouth clean with a napkin.

"So," you started, while the four of you briskly made your way to the car, "I'll do what Joy says and update you all once I've done it."

Jaehyun let out a laugh. "Why do you make it sound so serious?"

You frowned, offended, but your conversation was interrupted when you locked eyes with Chenle, who smiled and waved at you. You waved back happily, a happy glow settling on your cheeks.

“Dear God,” Jaehyun groaned. “He’s already making you delusional.”

You swatted him, and he quickly amended, "Not delusional! A perfectly sane human who will be telling us all about their attempts to gain Chenle’s love!”

You harrumphed, taking long steps with your legs straightened out, until Joy wrapped her hands around you and laughed joyfully. “Come now, Y/n! They're just teasing.”

You stuck your tongue out the side of your mouth and glared at Jaehyun. He shrugged uselessly and you finally relented.

“Fine, I’ll tell you all about it. If anything happens.”

“When anything happens, you mean. Have some faith in Joy’s plan,” Dokyeom interjected, winking at Joy.

She grinned back at him and you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

The studio was warm with the body heat radiating off the few of you piled up on each other, limbs strewn out in a tangled fashion, heads resting on anything soft you could find. Your head was buried deep within your sweater, which you had laid upon the wooden floor, and Winwin was snuggled up into your side. Somewhere, Suzy and Dokyeom were also lying among the scripts and pens lying on the floor, heads supported by their forearms and each other’s legs.

Nobody dared to move much—if they did, they might tickle whoever they were leaning on, and if they breathed too deeply, the person lying on them might shift away. Anyway, everyone was too tired to move much, mouthing their own lines to themselves, occasionally thumbing to the next page or groaning in frustration. You propped your elbows up and struggled into a half-sitting, half-lying down position, glancing over at Johnny, who was speaking to one of the stage crew while gesturing wildly to the stack of props next to them.

Joy awakened from her nap, rubbing her eyes as she looked around. “What time is it?” she asked, spotting you as the only one who wasn’t busy with something else.

“5.50,” you replied. Joy nodded, pulling her shoes back on, before tucking her hands into the deep pockets of her jacket and getting to her feet.

She walked over from her corner of the room to your spot on the floor, crashing next to you, causing Winwin to look up at the sound, eyes rolling up. Joy waved at him and smiled.

Winwin smiled back, rolling over onto his stomach as he surveyed the studio. He rubbed his hands together, then pressed the back of his palm against your neck, and you shuddered at how cold he was.

His body was warm, but his fingers weren’t, so you passed him the sweater that you had been lying on, and he buried his hands within it to gain some of the warmth you had transferred to it.

Your phone buzzed as you clambered to your feet. You pulled it out from your pocket, mouth widening in shock when you read the message.

“Joy,” you whispered urgently, tugging on her sleeve, “What does it mean when someone says they have a surprise for you?”

Joy let out a sharp, delighted gasp. “What?” Her shocked reply pulled Dokyeom out of his trance, and your friends gathered around your phone while Winwin stretched his legs out, a short distance away, weight resting on his palms as he watched you with an amused smile playing on his lips, head tilted to one side.

Joy skimmed through the messages quickly, her smile fading when she finished reading all of them. “I don’t think it means much, since he said his friend bought it for him. It kind of sounds like he’s just using you so he doesn’t feel guilty about letting the gift go to waste.”

“Ah,” you sighed, disappointed. “So it’s nothing special?”

Joy shrugged. “I mean, he’s giving you something, and that means he at least remembers you and is friendly towards you.”

“Can’t take care of these kinds of things well?” Dokyeom interjected, reading off the message, and you smiled inwardly at how delayed his reaction was. “What, is he giving you some kind of living organism or something?”

“... Shit.” You pressed your hand to your forehead. “You don't think he got me a plant, do you?”

Nervous laughter escaped Joy’s lips, shortly followed by Suzy’s full-on chortling. Soon, the sound of laughter in the room was so loud that you could barely hear Johnny calling for the actors to come back to the centre. That was, until his voice, amplified by the microphone strapped to his body, clearly enunciated, “Lee Dokyeom and company, if you’re not over here in one minute, you can all kiss goodbye to your current roles.”

The laughter soon died down to smothered giggles as you ran over to the sides of the studio that you were starting on, Jaehyun nudging you as you rehearsed your lines by the side. “Didn’t you kill the bean sprouts you tried to grow in elementary school?”

You rolled your eyes. Ever since Winwin had given you a plant for your birthday and your parents had let slip that you were notoriously bad at taking care of anything living, including yourself, your friends had never let you live it down.

“Yes, Jae, that’s old news. Shouldn’t there be other things for you to think about right now? Say, like making sure you don’t accidentally start rapping your lines?”

Jaehyun groaned. “That was one time, Y/n–“

Before he could say any more, you were scurrying into the middle, one hand on Dokyeom’s shoulder as you bounced on the balls of your feet. You pretended to lose balance, falling forward into a front roll, and Dokyeom rushed forward, peering over the half-completed balcony prop.

“Abu!”

You got to your feet, dramatically dusting off your shoulders before grinning widely at Dokyeom, head cheekily cocked to one side before you leapt back behind the balcony prop.

All thoughts of Chenle were soon pushed to the back of your mind as you immersed yourself in the role.

Those thoughts never left the back of your mind, however, and they still plagued you as you sipped the ice-cold water from the water cooler and swirled your noodles around, taking slow bites while Suzy ate contentedly.

“You okay?”

You shrugged, forcing yourself to take another bite before looking at the empty bowl and sighing heavily. Rehearsal had ended earlier than expected, and it was barely 10pm, yet you felt more tired than usual.

“I guess I’m just a little tired of life.”

Suzy raised her eyebrows, reaching over to hug you wordlessly. When she pulled away, her hand remained on your shoulder as she made eye contact with you. Each word she said was intentional and carefully enunciated as she told you, “That’s normal. We all get a little tired of life sometimes, especially when we’re nearing a big production and hours are long, making it easy for us to lose sight of what the goal is. Just remember that you have us—” she gestured vaguely in the direction of the empty studio—“and that we’re always here for you.”

You nodded, slumping against the table and burying your head in your hands. “It’s just– I want to love and be loved, you know? And it’s so hard to do that in this day and age.”

Suzy smiled ruefully and hummed in understanding. “I know it’s tough. I won’t lie and say it gets better, but at some point we all figure out something that works for us. Just hang in there for a while, you’ll find your way too.”

Her words hung in your mind the entire ride home, even as you stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for your floor. You took advantage of the short elevator ride to take a break, shutting your eyes until the “ding” sound of the elevator doors opening called you back to reality.

You were greeted by a potted plant sitting next to your shoe rack when you came up to your door, and you slipped your shoes off and picked up the plant, pushing open the door to your house. You set the plant down on your dining table, glad that there was a plate underneath to prevent the water from leaking onto your floor.

You left the plant there while you went to wash up, and came back afterwards with your phone in hand.

Sitting at the table, you turned the plant around aimlessly, contemplating what to do with this “surprise” your neighbour had given you with pure intentions. A white sticker caught your attention, and you began to search up the name, looking up what kind of care it needed. Fortunately for you, it was a succulent and fairly low maintenance; although you knew that you were still perfectly capable of killing it.

You decided to put it on your window sill, where it was sure to get plenty of direct sunlight while you were fast asleep, and watered it sparingly. You sat at the table, admiring the view of the plant anyone else would have if they were to step foot inside the house, a smile breaking out across your face.

You caught yourself, shocked at how quickly you had come to accept the gift, despite your earlier protests about owning a plant.

Before you could think any better of it, you were dialling Winwin’s number.

He picked up the video call, groggily wiping at his half-closed eyes. “Honestly, Y/n, have you ever heard of this thing called ‘sleeping’? It’s really good. You should try it.”

“I have a succulent. On my window sill. And I'm happy thinking about how it’ll look every time I come home.”

“Wow,” Winwin drawled. “What a tragedy.”

“I’m serious, Sicheng. I’ve never managed to keep a plant alive before. But the moment Chenle gives me one, I'm staying up late trying to figure out how best to take care of it. Do you know how terrifying that is?”

Winwin rubbed his face tiredly. “Do you need me to come over? You sound like you’re having a crisis.”

You shook your head. “No, can you just… Stay on the call with me?”

Winwin nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

A moment of silence ensued before he asked, “So, what’s up? Suzy told me you were feeling a little tired of life.”

You shrugged. “I don't know, I'm just… thinking a lot, I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship.”

Three years, to be exact. Your high school sweetheart had lasted all of four years before deciding halfway through university that your “high commitment to theatre” made it “impossible” for the two of you to work out.

Since then, you had never been in a relationship, though not for lack of trying—you simply had high standards that were difficult to meet, and all your previous dates had barely met the bare minimum. Once, you had jokingly suggested that you and Winwin date, but he had turned down the offer without blinking. In hindsight, dating within the troupe would have been messy whether or not the two of you broke up.

“Y/n,” Winwin called, pulling you out of your stupor.

You blinked at him. “Yeah?”

“Nothing. Just, talk to me, yeah? You know I can’t read your mind.”

You nodded. “I know. I was just thinking.”

“We’ve discussed this. If you want to talk to me, you’re going to actually have to talk. You can't just be silent and expect me to understand.”

“Can't we just sit in silence for a while?” you asked pleadingly.

Winwin shook his head. “You know what comes from sitting in silence. Those thoughts in your head never go silent, do they? You’re going to have to voice them aloud for me to know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m just wondering if I really like Chenle, or if I’m seeking out love to the point that I mistake any form of human interaction outside of our group as a potential romantic relationship.”

Winwin’s gaze softened. “I think you’re being paranoid. Your feelings are completely valid, don't discredit them like that. Why don't you just wait it out and see? There’s no harm in getting to know him better.”

“But you know me, Sicheng. You know I’m scared to commit. I'm scared to lead him on and then dip when he reciprocates.”

Winwin smiled ruefully. “Haven’t you ever heard of facing your fears? You’re good at stepping out of your comfort zone. What changed?”

You shrugged, playing with the hem of your shirt. You stood from your spot in the dining area, making your way into the bedroom, where you snuggled under the covers as Winwin watched you expectantly.

“I guess you’re right. There’s no harm in getting to know him better. I am planning to stay in this place for a long while.”

Winwin grinned. “That’s the Y/n I know. Get some sleep, you’re going to have to talk to Chenle tomorrow.”

You frowned, mouth opening to ask what he meant, but you were too slow. As always, Winwin was one step ahead, hanging up before you could say anything.

sicheng: don't think i’ve forgotten about your promise to execute joy’s plan sicheng: i'll make sure you carry it out tmrw

You sighed. You weren’t sure whether to be grateful to have a friend like Winwin.

It was drizzling when you stepped out of the elevator, a light breeze blowing into the lift lobby. Other than the quiet whistle of the wind, everything else was silent—just how you liked it.

You took your time taking off your shoes, leisurely unlocking your door, when you heard the click of someone else’s lock and the sound of a door opening. You turned around, only to see Chenle dressed in a hoodie and shorts, his tousled hair obscuring his face.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, barely managing to tame it, when he finally looked up from his feet to you. His slippers remained forgotten on the shoe rack by the door as you made eye contact, breathing out a soft “oh”.

Chenle froze, hand groping about for the doorknob, then deciding to forget about it and slipping his feet into a pair of slippers. He stepped away from the door frame, shutting the gate behind him, and jerking his head at you.

“Just got back?”

“Yeah.” There was a pause while you contemplated asking Chenle if he was drunk, but he answered your question before it was even out of your mouth.

“I’m sober, by the way. Just hungry. I was going to head out to the store nearby to get some noodles, do you wanna come?”

You looked down at yourself, then back at the open door, into the empty apartment where there was nothing waiting for you anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to go with Chenle, right?

“Sure.”

Both of you stopped just before exiting the apartment building, opening your umbrellas as you stepped out into the rain, one after another, The wind had picked up, and the rain was starting to grow heavier, blowing into your face.

Chenle tugged the hood of his jacket up, cocking his head to one side. You followed him, staying silent on the walk there until Chenle spoke up.

“So, what’s your job? Do you often end this late?”

You side-stepped to avoid stepping into a puddle, not looking up as you replied, “I’m an actor.”

“You act in movies?”

You shook your head, then remembered he probably couldn’t see you with it being so dark outside. “I’m preparing for a musical.”

Chenle came to an abrupt halt, and you stopped walking, tearing your eyes away from his worn trainers to meet his eyes. You tried not to think too hard about the amusement in his black eyes, or the way it made them sparkle just a little, even with the sky being pitch black all around you.

“SorryIwasbusylookingatyourshoes,” you mumbled, all in a rush.

“What?” Chenle leaned in, and you took two frantic steps backwards.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said!” you yelled, then covered your mouth immediately. Nothing was going to plan!

Chenle let out a chuckle and you glanced at him, trying to decipher the look in his eyes as he smiled at you. “Am I making you nervous?”

“No.” You tried not to let your voice waver when you repeated it. “No, I’m not nervous. What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really talk to people much unless they’re customers, or when I’m playing on the court. It’s been a while since I’ve had a conversation. I didn’t want to cross a line, so let me know if anything I’m doing is making you nervous.”

“You’re not– you’re not making me nervous, Chenle. I’m fine.”

Chenle’s lip curled up slightly. “You remembered my name.”

“Yeah.”

Chenle started walking again, and you matched his pace, trying not to think too hard about what was coming out of your mouth, or why he might have gone silent.

“What kind of noodles do you like?”

You frowned, trying to think of all the noodles you had ever tried. Winwin had definitely taken you out to some Chinese restaurants before, but the only thing you remembered was that noodles were “mien”, which wasn’t helpful in your current situation at all.

“Um, I’ll eat any kind? Chow mien, maybe?”

“Chǎo miàn,” Chenle repeated, and you weren’t sure if he was correcting you. “Yeah, I can do that. That just means fried noodles, though. What kind of noodles do you want me to fry?”

“Oh, uh–“ you stuttered anxiously. “I’m not– I’m not really sure? I’m fine with whatever, really.” I don’t know what the names of the different noodles are, and I don’t want to sound like an idiot in front of you, you added to yourself.

“Okay. Lā miàn it is, then.”

You repeated it softly to yourself under your breath, and were surprised when Chenle corrected your pronunciation. You hadn’t expected him to have such keen hearing, nor had you expected him to actually care about how you pronounced it. Winwin had never really cared; you thought that he had probably given up a while back, after hopelessly trying to get you to say “nǐ hǎo” for one of the jokes he had made to you.

Chenle was quite the opposite.

He was extremely persistent, to the point that it should have been annoying, but you were honestly just happy that the conversation wasn’t dying down.

While he led you through the noodle aisle, confidently making his way to where the lā miàn was, he pointed out the other kinds of noodles, making you practise saying the name of each one before he moved on. By the time he finally reached the lā miàn boxes, you were on the verge of snatching a box of uncooked noodles off the shelves and dragging Chenle out, just so he would stop criticising the way you struggled to pronounce the tones.

As Chenle scanned the noodles, you finally mustered up the courage to ask, “Chenle, do you guys have neighbourly meetings?”

“What?” he replied, distractedly tapping one of the options on the screen and tapping his card to pay for the noodles. He tore the receipt off, barely looking at it as he folded it and put it in his pocket, before turning his attention to you. “What are neighbourly meetings?”

“You know, like when you meet up with your neighbours and, I don’t know, discuss stuff pertaining to your apartment flats, or maybe just play pool?”

Chenle raised an eyebrow. “Did you have that in your previous building?” he asked, walking out. You weren’t far behind, inwardly letting out a sigh of relief when you noticed that the rain had lightened up.

“…no?”

Chenle let out a laugh that had your heart pounding in your chest, youthful and genuine, and you wondered why you had never seen him outside with his friends. If you were his friend, you would want to spend every waking second with him, just to hear his cheerful laughter and infectious joy.

“Then what makes you think we would have it?”

“I don’t know.” You decided not to tell him that Joy had suggested it, and you had never really stopped to consider if it was something that people even implemented anymore.

“I guess we do have something similar, but we haven’t held them in a while. We call them ‘Fifth Floor Film Fridays’, or F4 for short.”

“Sounds a little cringe, don’t you think?”

“Hey, watch your words. I came up with the name.”

“My bad. Didn’t know you were cool like that,” you said, tucking the handle of your umbrella under your armpit so you could raise both hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Thanks. Anyway, Renjun came up with the idea so we could speak to Jisung, since he had just moved into the flat at the time. You know how each floor only has four flats? Well, Renjun and I lived in two of the flats, and there was an old man living in yours. He used to give us candy when he saw us coming back from school,” Chenle reminisced.

“He always had his door open, with only the gate closed as he sat on his rocking chair and read the newspaper. He passed away a year ago, and his children have been trying to sell the flat for a while before you bought it. Either way, at the time the only other kid on our floor was Jisung, but he was shy and kind of awkward and always looked the other way when we saw him in the corridors in school.”

You couldn’t imagine what that would be like. If Chenle ever tried to speak to you in high school, you were sure that you would eagerly reciprocate his energy, even if you were later teased by your friends about it.

“So, Renjun and I talked loudly about F4 when we passed by him one day, and I pretended to remember that Jisung lived on our floor too, and ‘conveniently’ asked him to join.”

“…and it worked?”

“Of course! We just haven’t had them in a while, since, you know, we were all in university. But Renjun and I have both graduated, and Jisung’s never been one for studying, so I’m sure I could tell them to make time this Friday.”

When you didn’t reply, Chenle added, “You’re free then, right?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I am,” you lied. You weren’t sure if Johnny would let you take the time off, but you were sure if you tried to beg, you could probably pull it off.

“Then it’s set,” Chenle said, unlocking his door. You left your shoes outside by the door, padding softly across the floor, too scared to make any noise. Chenle locked the door, then pressed his index finger to his lips in a shushing motion, leading you into the kitchen.

He turned the light on, glancing at the bedroom door, presumably to ensure that his parents hadn’t woken up.

“You can just take a seat,” he told you, taking cutlery and two bowls from the cupboards. You took them from him, setting them on the dining table while he retrieved the various ingredients for the fried noodles and set a pot of water on the stove to boil.

“Last time I cooked for someone else, I was trying to impress someone I had over,” he said, conversationally.

“Oh yeah? How did that work out?”

He shook his head with a quiet laugh. “It didn’t. I just felt the need to cook for them because they only ever came to the family pizzeria to see me, and they would always compliment me on the pizza, but I don’t actually make those. I just collate orders and tell my parents what the customers want.”

Rolling his eyes, he continued, “So obviously, it hurt my ego that they didn’t know all about my cooking prowess. And because I’m so painfully Chinese, of course I subjected them to all the Chinese vegetable dishes my parents made for me growing up. They barely touched any of it because, as it turned out, they didn’t like eating their vegetables.”

“What were they, five?” you scoffed.

Chenle grinned. “I know, right? My parents told me not to invite anyone else who couldn’t eat the food I cooked after that.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I don’t like your cooking?”

Chenle smiled threateningly. “I’ll kick you out without hesitation.”

“It’s good that I’m not picky, then.” You stood up from your chair, walking over to watch Chenle strain the hot noodles and cool them down with ice before tossing what felt like random sauces into the pan and stir-frying the noodles.

“Can I help?”

Chenle hummed. “Not really. I mean, you’re still a guest.”

“Okay.” You watched him from a safe distance, stepping aside when he turned off the fire to allow him to walk towards the dining table and scoop half of the noodles into each bowl.

“Enjoy.”

You picked up your chopsticks, clicking them twice before thanking Chenle for the food and taking a bite.

Chenle, for all his bravado, didn’t move to take a bite until a smile broke out on your face, and he looked visibly relieved when you didn’t criticise his cooking. He began to eat his own noodles, not forgetting to compliment himself, and you agreed with raised eyebrows and a sigh.

Afterwards, he walked you to the door, waiting until you had closed the door behind you to return into his own house, beginning to wash the dishes.

Meanwhile, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with shampoo running down your neck, wondering how the hell you had ended up eating stir-fried noodles at Chenle’s place at midnight.

Once out of the bathroom, though, you had come to terms with the fact that it was a real thing that had happened, and not just some kind of hallucination. When your hair was dry, you lay down in bed, burying your face into your pillow and screaming.

Then, before you could think too much about it, you resolved to go to sleep.

Blocking was your worst enemy. It always had been for someone like you, who always forgot that the stage had limited space and you all had to move around while being aware of each others’ presence.

You did a cartwheel for what felt like the hundredth time, wobbling on your feet as you tried to regain your balance, hand pressed to your forehead in an attempt to ease the headache caused by the blood rushing to your brain. Johnny glared at you and you realised that you were half a metre away from where you were supposed to be. Still dizzy from the amount of time you had spent upside down, you took a few shaky steps to the yellow cross demarcating the spot you were supposed to be in.

“Stop, let’s take 5. Y/n, you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I just can't do it full-out, my hands are shaking,” you told him softly, holding your hands out for him to see that they were trembling.

Johnny took one long, hard look at you and shook his head. “You’re taking tomorrow evening off.”

“What?”

“We’re all taking tomorrow evening off, in fact. Let’s make it a long weekend.”

Still confused, you stared at him as he announced it to everyone, gesturing for you to drink water. You came back right after, tapping Johnny on the shoulder as you asked, “Why are we having a long weekend?”

Johnny smiled warmly. “I forget you guys are still young sometimes. You shouldn’t be spending your early 20s burning yourselves out like this. Get some rest, watch a movie or something.”

“That’s what he said,” you told Joy, who had just asked how you managed to get Johnny to call Friday evening off. She smiled, hugging her knees close to her chest as she looked at you.

“He really has a soft spot for the younger ones,” she mused. “So, how are you spending your Friday off? Any plans?”

You laughed softly, thinking about how you’d asked Chenle if there were any neighbours’ meetings you could attend. “I do, actually. Turns out my neighbours do this thing called ‘Fifth Floor Film Fridays’ sometimes.”

“Tacky name,” Joy commented.

“Chenle came up with it.”

“Ah. Then it’s tasteful.”

You let out a snort. “No need for the switch-up. I thought it was pretty tacky too. But that’s not important, what’s important is that I'm going over to his house tonight for it.”

Joy leaned forward, a glimmer in her eyes as she said, “Run it by me. What you’re bringing, what time you’re going to be there, who’s going to be there. Tell me all about it.”

Later that night, you were holding down the lid of your frying pan while you popped the corn kernels you had just bought in a pan full of butter, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t end in catastrophe.

After what seemed like forever, the timer on your phone finally rang, and you removed the lid triumphantly, tossing the popcorn around so they wouldn’t stick to the pan. Luckily, the method you had used seemed to work, and you only had to throw out a small amount of unpopped kernels while pouring the popcorn into an open container for it to cool down.

You washed the pan and checked out your outfit in the mirror one last time before spraying a mild perfume on your wrists and pressing them against the sides of your neck.

Carrying the container of popcorn and precariously balancing a pack of sour strips on top of it, you pressed the doorbell to Chenle’s house, wondering if anyone else had arrived yet.

Your question was quickly answered by the man sitting in the living room, barely visible from the door when Chenle opened it and greeted you with a smile, but perfectly audible as he spelled the name of the movie aloud.

You entered the apartment cautiously, feeling unexpectedly nervous, but your fears were soon eased when you made eye contact with the man sitting on the sofa. He paused his struggle with the remote for a second while trailing his gaze up and down your figure, before breaking out into a smile.

“Hi, I'm Renjun.”

“Hi, Renjun. Do you need help with the TV? Oh, I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“I know,” he replied cryptically. “Chenle’s mentioned you before.”

You looked at Chenle in surprise, and he stared back at you. “What? I had to explain why I suddenly wanted to revive F4.”

Right. So that was all it was. Nothing to overthink about, you reminded yourself. You found a seat on the sofa, holding your hand out for the remote, and Renjun grudgingly handed it to you. “I can do it myself, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I just thought I’d help and speed up the process a little,” you quipped. Chenle let out a high-pitched giggle, squeezing between Renjun and the armrest, teasingly nudging his friend.

“Y/n’s calling you slow,” he said, as if Renjun hadn’t already gotten it. The latter rolled his eyes and rested his chin against his hand in a bored fashion, while you triumphantly displayed the movie that Renjun had been trying to find.

The doorbell rang again, and Renjun got up from the sofa that time, warmly hugging Jisung as he entered.

The tall, lanky man followed Renjun into the house, shutting the door behind him and giving Chenle a wave. Catching sight of you, he stopped in his tracks, tugging on Renjun’s shirt and mouthing, Is that Y/n?

Renjun nodded, almost imperceptibly, and you cracked a smile at their silent exchange. “Yes, Jisung, I'm Y/n. Nice to meet you.” You extended a hand to him, and the introverted man hesitantly took a few steps forward before taking your hand and shaking it.

Jisung set the grapes he had brought down on the table, mouth widening as he caught sight of the packet of candy. “Sour strips? Those are my favourite,” he gushed, reaching one hand out for them. “Can I open them? Who brought these?”

“Yeah, sure, you can open them.”

Jisung turned his big-eyed stare to you, and you found yourself melting in his gaze. “You brought it?”

You nodded, and Jisung raised a palm to cover his mouth. “Ah, really! Thanks.”

You nodded to acknowledge him, and Renjun stood up to turn the lights off, while Chenle turned the television on. Somehow, with all the movement going on, you ended up in the centre of the sofa, wedged between Jisung on your left and Chenle on your right, while Renjun sat on the right-most with his elbow propped up on the arm rest.

With the cosy atmosphere and the lights turned down low, it was easy for you to forget that you barely knew the other neighbours, leaning forward while stuffing popcorn into your mouth, fully invested in the storyline. You almost forgot that the others weren’t your group of friends, who liked to talk loudly during the movie about the cinematic lighting or the expressions the actors made.

When you made a comment about the delivery of a specific line, Renjun turned to glare at you, but stopped when he saw the way Chenle watched you. A delighted smile on his lips, he watched your expressions like it was more entertaining than the movie, only turning his attention back to the screen once you stopped speaking.

Renjun tapped his finger against his chin, observing you more carefully.

You weren’t making a lot of physical contact with either of the men seated on either side of you, but you were very vocal, unafraid to voice every thought that crossed your mind aloud. You easily matched Chenle’s energy, nodding seriously and fuelling him whenever he started talking about one of the scenes, even when he got to the point that usually Jisung would sigh and smile exasperatedly, reaching out to place a hand over Chenle’s mouth to shut him up.

When this continued for an hour straight, it became too much for Jisung to bear. With a soft cry of frustration, he ran his hands through his hair, scrunching it up in irritation before he stood and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Renjun rose from the sofa not long after, following Jisung’s lead into the kitchen.

In a hushed whisper, Renjun spoke to Jisung. “Do you see what’s going on out there?”

“It’s like there’s two of them,” Jisung complained. “We should never have said yes to tonight.”

“No,” Renjun replied. “That’s not the important part. Have you seen how Chenle looks at them?”

Jisung cocked his head in confusion. “No?”

“He looks at them like they're glowing, or something like that. He’s infatuated! I’ve never seen him let someone else speak without trying to interrupt them constantly to say his piece before. It’s almost like he agrees with everything they're saying.”

“Which is impossible, because Chenle never agrees with anyone,” Jisung gasped in realisation. “Do you think there’s something wrong with him?”

“What? No! Ugh, you’re so clueless.”

Jisung pouted, and Renjun folded immediately. “Fine, you’re not clueless. I think Chenle likes Y/n, whether he knows it or not.” Renjun stuck his head out, peeking at the two sitting on the sofa, then nodded to reaffirm his point.

“So… what are we going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Renjun sighed, with a roll of his eyes, “That’s how good dramas play out. Sometimes, you’ve got to let the characters figure out what to do on their own. Has our interference ever helped Chenle get into a relationship?”

Jisung opened his mouth to say yes.

“A long-lasting one,” Renjun hastily amended. Jisung reconsidered each time they had tried to set Chenle up with someone, including the disastrous last time when the person they were trying to set Chenle up with only liked Italian food, and never ate any sort of vegetables.

Jisung slowly shook his head.

“Exactly. Let’s just leave them alone this one time, okay? We’ve got to have a little faith in Chenle.”

Almost as if hearing his name, Chenle looked up from the sofa, eyebrows furrowing as he caught sight of his two friends standing in the kitchen and whispering to each other.

He raised one hand, beckoning his friends back, and they set down their glasses and went back to join the two sitting in the living room.

Noting that you were still absorbed in the movie, Chenle leaned over to Renjun and murmured, “What was that all about?”

Renjun shrugged innocently. “I was just asking Jisung how his last year was.”

“I want to know too, why did you guys have to go over there and act like it’s a secret or something?”

“Once the movie is over, we can talk all about it, ok? I want to hear about Y/n too.”

“Deal.” Chenle raised his pinky, and Renjun reluctantly took it, hooking his pinky with Chenle’s.

“Did you never grow up?”

“Nope,” Chenle said cheerfully.

A feeling of dread began to overcome Chenle as he saw you stumbling into his family’s pizzeria with nothing but a six pack of beer and your phone, collapsing at a table near the counter. Business was slow at 9am on a Wednesday, especially since they had just opened, and Chenle found himself swearing under his breath before walking over and sitting down opposite you.

You cracked open your first can of beer, sipping slowly at it while staring straight at Chenle, who couldn’t be bothered to hide his disgust.

“Seriously? It’s 9am on a weekday. What’s got you like this?”

“You forget that my sleep schedule is royally fucked, so this is basically 3am to me,” you told him, one finger pointing vaguely at him.

“And that gives you the right to come in here and drink to your heart’s content? I’m not having you sitting around here drunk. It’s bad for business.”

You smiled bitterly. “What business? The place is empty anyway. I'll be sober before lunchtime, don't worry. The alcohol content in the beer is pretty low, and I still have to go to work after this.”

You managed to gulp down an entire can, cracking open a new one, before Chenle sighed and took the rest away from you.

“Seriously, Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“It’s not about my ex,” you said immediately. “I’m well and truly over him.”

Chenle couldn’t help the pang of jealousy he felt, but he squashed it down, gritting his teeth and saying, “Don't care. Didn’t ask. Don't answer my question with a negative.”

“I can't tell you who it’s about,” you said. “It would be mad embarrassing.”

“You must still be somewhat sober then,” Chenle muttered. “Can I leave you?”

“No.” You grabbed his wrist, and he promptly sat back down. “Don't go. I'll tell you.”

“Okay.”

“It’s about me, selfishly.”

“It’s not selfish to have problems,” Chenle said, trying to comfort you, but you waved it off.

“Don't interrupt. I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Chenle shut up pretty quickly when you said that, so you continued, “I had this conversation a while back with Sicheng. Told him I was scared I was just looking for romance, and that a crush I thought I had was just me trying to push myself into a relationship. But now it’s no longer about not being sure of my feelings.”

Chenle didn’t know why, but some part of him wanted to get up and leave the conversation before he had to hear any more about the guy who had your heart. He didn’t want to hear you talking about some guy you liked unless it was him, because it was making him so jealous he could hardly breathe.

“I’m scared to commit,” you confessed. “I know I like him and I'm fairly sure he likes me back, and I don't know if he knows but I'm scared to tell him in case it all becomes too real for me to handle.”

Chenle felt his heart rate grow impossibly slow. There was, in his opinion, the slimmest of chances that the person you were talking about was him.

And while Chenle had always been an opportunist, he was also practical. He wasn’t about to jeopardise his chances by confessing while you were drunk, especially not when he was fairly certain you would forget the whole interaction by the time it was night. That would be simply humiliating for him, and his pride wouldn’t be able to handle it.

So to keep his pride at least somewhat intact, Chenle only said, “I think you should confess.”

“Really?” You looked at him sceptically, reaching for another can of beer. Chenle would have stopped you a second time, but instead of trying to drink it, you started lining three cans of beer up, stacking another two cans on top of it. Although you tried to place the last empty can atop the other two to finish the pyramid, your shaky hand made it hard for you to achieve the feat.

After three failed attempts, Chenle grew impatient, and held your wrist to steady it while you placed the last can on top of the pyramid. With one hand holding your wrist in place, he used the other hands to loosen the death grip you had on the can, moving your hand aside so the can would stay on top of the pyramid.

You slumped over on the table, staring at your masterpiece happily.

“I like–”

Chenle reached over and placed one finger on your lips to shush you, shaking his head. Chenle wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t to hear a confession while he was working, on a Wednesday morning, while you were half-drunk only a few hours before you had to head to work at a studio half an hour away.

His heart wasn’t ready for it, anyway.

He stood up, left to get you some water, and came back while you continued to stare into space dazedly, forcing you to finish a cup of water before repacking the unopened cans of beer and throwing away the empty ones.

“I appreciate your openness,” he said sincerely. “But I’d rather hear it when you’re sober. I'm confiscating this—” he held up the remaining four cans of beer, putting them in the fridge before coming back to you—”and you are going for a walk with me.”

You followed limply as he took you out, walking one round around the block while you leaned on his shoulder for support. Chenle, having established that you were sober enough to take the bus to your studio, was taking you back to the pizzeria when your phone began to ring.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, I thought you were kidnapped or something! Are you okay?”

You nodded, then remembered that Winwin wasn't able to see you. "Yeah. Why?"

"We agreed to meet up, remember? This is the third time you've stood me up in two months."

You slapped your forehead. Of course you remembered! Just not when you were drunk and trying to confess to someone who had just rejected you because you weren't sober. You cast a glance at Chenle, who raised his eyebrows at you.

"Um, yeah. About that. Sorry?"

“I've literally been to this arcade three times to wait for you already, people are going to start thinking I'm a loser whose date never shows up!"

"Don't be dramatic, Sicheng. Didn't you call Jaehyun to accompany you the past few times?"

“Yeah, after you were a no-show for two hours because you overslept!"

You winced apologetically. It really was your fault, but there was nothing you could do about the past few times. "I'm coming now. Can you hold on for a while?"

“You'd better hurry."

As you hung up, you turned to look at Chenle, but he was busy looking away.

"So, Chenle–"

Chenle shook his head. "You're still not fully sober yet. I don't want to hear anything from those lips. Go and catch Sicheng, I'm sure he's been waiting."

"Can we... talk about this some other time?"

Chenle nodded. "Whenever you're free."

You weren’t expecting to see Chenle sitting on the step in front of his door, phone in his hands, when you arrived back home that day after a long day out. It had been a tiring day for you, having gone to the arcade and then to the studio afterwards, and all you wanted was to take a hot shower and go to bed.

But there Chenle was, his phone screen brightly lit up, although he switched it off the moment you stepped into view. He flipped the phone in his hands carelessly, looking up to meet your eyes.

You gave him a long, hard look, then headed inside, dropping your things off in your bedroom before taking a shower. Minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, towel around your neck as you dried your hair, leaving the main door open when you took a seat at your steps, directly opposite Chenle.

No one spoke for a few moments, and it was just the two of you existing, surrounded by an atmosphere of comfortable silence. The stars blinked at you as you stared aimlessly out the side, watching the moon glow dimly, shrouded by the cloud cover.

Finally, after a long silence, you stretched out your legs, your breath whistling softly past your teeth, and Chenle looked straight into your eyes and spoke.

“How’s life?”

There was a certain understanding that rippled through the air—you weren’t going to talk about the almost-confession that had happened in the morning. He probably thought you didn’t remember it, and even though you did, you weren’t going to bring it up. There were some things better left unsaid.

Anyway, if he didn’t want to hear it, it was probably because he didn’t want to reject you twice. You set your towel on your lap, hands clasped, leaning forward as you said, “It’s fine.”

“What play are you preparing for now?”

“Aladdin.”

“Ah.” Chenle was silent for a while, and when you didn’t speak, he asked, “Aren’t you going to invite me to come watch it?”

“Johnny hasn’t given us our allocation of tickets yet, so, no. But I can invite you in advance.”

“Wow. You sound like you’re being held at gunpoint to say that.”

You laughed hollowly. “Sorry, I’m not really in the best mood.”

Chenle scoffed. “Oh, yeah? Then when are you in the best mood? At 9am in the morning?”

“Wow.” You took a long, slow breath and buried your head in your hands. “You’re right. Sorry. I won’t show up like that again.”

“It's not about the business, Y/n. I was kidding when I said that. It’s about me being worried about you. Why do you have to drink all by yourself? Is there no better way to resolve your problems?”

“Now you’re making me feel in need of a drink.”

“Seriously? So that’s just your default response to anyone asking you if you’re okay? That’s fucked up, Y/n. You’re halfway there to being an alcoholic at this rate.”

“Actually, you’re wrong.” You could almost hear the pleading tone in your voice, begging him to please believe you, to please stop being mad over an issue that didn’t exist. “I don’t drink. Today was the first time in a few months.”

It was the first time drinking and not thinking about your ex, anyway. Hence your opening line.

“Then? What’s up with this ex of yours, and why was the first thing you said to me that it wasn’t about your ex? It sounded highly suspicious to me.”

There it was. The real root of the problem, the reason Chenle was acting the way he was. Curiosity and misplaced anger, and if you read far into it enough, a hint of jealousy. But of course you didn’t read into it, because that had never been your strong suit. You preferred to take things at face value, then drive yourself insane over the “what if”s, analysing hypothetical scenarios instead of the body language that was perfectly real.

“My ex and I were high school sweethearts. He was my first and only real relationship, and I’ve never let myself get too close to anyone since. I guess I’m scared to commit, scared for everything to be so real and then to lose another person. Again.”

Chenle huffed a sigh, getting to his feet and sitting next to you. You shifted over, squeezing with him on the small step, and his hand landed on your shoulder. A silent tear rolled down your cheek, and Chenle’s other hand wrapped you in a warm, wordless hug.

“I don’t want to let myself get close, Chenle. That’s why I was drinking today; I was torn between my desire to be loved and my fear of not being loved.”

Chenle pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, listening to your muffled words as you mumbled into his jacket, and he loosened his hug to look at you, eyes trailing down your face.

“Give it a chance,” he said, slowly. “Give loving a chance. I promise it’s not as scary as you’re making it out to be.”

“That’s a great line,” you sniffed, wiping away your tears. “Have you ever considered becoming a playwright?”

Chenle shook his head. “No, but maybe after I watch your rendition of ‘Aladdin’, I might change my mind.”

You grinned weakly. “I’ll do my best, then.”

The screen in the dressing room was black, with Johnny occasionally walking onstage with a microphone strapped to his head. His low heeled boots clicked against the floor, and though the microphone didn’t pick it up, you had heard the sound often enough to imagine it as you watched your director walking across the stage.

Clipboard in one hand and his phone in the other, Johnny’s eyebrows were knotted together as he spoke rapidly into the microphone. Most of it was for the stage crew, so you couldn’t hear what he was saying down in the dressing room, but occasionally you would get startled when he walked back into the wings—presumably going to call the actors back onstage—only to emerge again a few seconds later.

Finally, it was almost time for the show to begin, and you went to prepare in the wings.

”Oh God.”

You heard Winwin’s strangled whisper even with the thunderous applause resounding in the echoey chambers of the theatre, watching the lights slowly dim through the gap between the curtains. You turned to face him, momentarily pulled away from scanning the audience, only to see his face ashen and pale, mouth agape.

”What?”

“She’s there,” he breathed, more like a sigh than actual words.

”Who?”

”Ningning. My junior from university. The one that brought me flowers on graduation day?”

Ah, that one. You clearly remembered her, even though you had only met her once. That specific incident had been a core memory of yours, back when your group had gone to attend Winwin’s graduation ceremony. As a bunch of theatre kids, you were the only ones dressed in brightly coloured jeans and turtlenecks, among the other students in graduation gowns and the iconic black hats.

Jaehyun ruffled Winwin’s hair, and he ducked shyly, hands reaching up to smoothen out his curls. The gel in his hair made this a difficult feat, so he eventually gave up, as Jaehyun laughed at him delightedly.

The commotion only got louder when one of Winwin’s batchmates called for a photo, and the graduates hurried to find a place on the steps, Winwin making his way to the back naturally. Several cameras flashed, and someone yelled for them to stay still while he swapped out his phone for another one, and the chorus of “cheese” sounded once more.

”Shī gē!” A Chinese girl with a bright smile and her hair in a high ponytail came running up to Winwin as he made his way back to you, a bouquet of yellow carnations in hand. “Happy graduation!”

Winwin’s face flushed red at the sound of someone calling him “senior”, and laughter burst out at the uncommon sight of someone chasing after Winwin. Although you would admit that your best friend was rather attractive, his features also made him too intimidating for anyone to approach. In your years of friendship, only one person had made a move on Winwin, and they had been politely rejected—if you could call being dismissed with a confused tilt of Winwin’s head “polite”.

Ducking his head and covering his eyes with his too-long fringe, Winwin handed his phone to you, mumbling something about you taking a photo of them.

A wide grin spread across your face. “Of course!” You cheekily took a picture of them, watching the way Winwin immediately eased up, putting one hand around the girl’s shoulder, holding the bouquet in his other hand. The girl threw up a peace sign and you snapped the shot, returning the phone to Winwin.

“I hope to see you around!” The girl told him, waving before running off, and you nudged Winwin while raising your eyebrows teasingly.

“Senior, huh?”

Winwin buried his face in his palms. “Please don’t call me that!”

“Who is she, anyway?”

“One of my juniors. She came up to me after our performance, said she admired me a lot, and since then she’s been kind of vocal about her crush on me.”

“Ah.” You nodded in understanding. “She seems like a nice girl.”

Winwin shrugged. “I guess. She’s not my type.”

“I thought she wasn’t your type?” you asked, recalling the conversation the two of you had had. Winwin rubbed the back of his neck nervously in response.

“I thought so too.”

You let out a snort, just as the distant clapping in the audience died off and Suzy ran onstage. “Well, you’d best put on a show for her then.”

The curtains slowly parted, and Suzy began reciting her lines, while Winwin stared straight at the spot where Ningning presumably was. “You too,” he replied. “Chenle’s there too.”

It definitely wasn’t nerve-wracking to hear that.

You were definitely cool and collected when your turn to go onstage came, and you did a dramatic cartwheel into the scene, just like you had practised many times before. The blocking that had been drilled into you by Johnny's constant tireless corrections and hours of effort had ingrained itself into your muscles kept you from crashing into anyone, dancing around the “guards” onstage in an intricate choreography that had been practised ceaselessly.

For once, you were grateful for having gotten a role where you didn’t have to speak, schooling your face into the exaggerated expressions you had spent hours practising in the mirror. Your body was your medium, conveying a message without words, moving all over the stage, managing to interrupt dialogues comically without having to deliver a punchline.

You no longer cared about how foolish the costume looked, concerned only with how the play worked as a whole, determined to give your best. Even if that meant acting as a monkey, ignoring the audience’s laughter. It was a testament to how well you were playing the role, you reminded yourself. Their laughter wasn't an indication of how bad you were. Rather, it was the exact opposite.

The two hours passed in a flash, with intermission as your sole break in between. In the dressing room, you had time to catch your breath, drinking water and going into the green room for a bite of the sausage buns that had been prepared beforehand.

Before you knew it, thunderous applause was sounding, your sweaty hands holding tightly onto your friends as you took your final bow. A wide smile broke across your face, triumphant and ecstatic, filled with pure, unadulterated pride.

You had completed it, the play that you had been working so hard for for months.

It was finally over.

The dressing rooms were a mess, with people poking their heads in everywhere. Johnny walked through the corridor in his suit, a proud smile dancing across his lips as he hugged people and shook their hands, congratulating all of you on a wonderful show.

Hasty hands plunged through door cracks, holding costumes and water bottles and other paraphernalia. Winwin poked his head into your dressing room, duffel bag slung on his shoulder, casting a glance at your almost-empty room. Most of the actors were in a hurry to meet their parents, but your and Winwin’s parents weren’t watching the show, so you took your time to pack everything back in your bag.

“C’mon, Y/n, hurry up!”

“What for? Everyone else is having a meal with their parents, but I’m not.”

Winwin clenched his teeth and looked over his shoulder. “Chenle, remember?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Oh. Right. That singular name had you zipping up your own backpack, grabbing your phone off the counter, and staring at your stage makeup in the mirror.

“I look like a clown,” you complained, as Winwin dragged you outside and up the stairs.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m fairly certain he doesn’t care.” Winwin wasn’t paying attention to you, though, too busy scanning the crowd to take a good look at you.

“There!” You followed Winwin’s finger to where Chenle stood, holding a bouquet in his right hand, his other hand tucked into his pocket as he listened to Jisung. He was dressed in a sweater and black slacks, a stark contrast to the casual clothing you were used to seeing him in, and you felt your chest tighten.

He looked up just as you appeared in front of him, eyes sparkling, one hand tightly clutching your bag so it wouldn’t fall off your shoulder. He took the sight of you in, your heart pounding when he didn’t speak, until he finally said, “You looked better as Abu.”

What? You let out the breath you were holding, about to curse him out, when he laughed, that high-pitched giggle that you had grown accustomed to hearing.

“You should see the look on your face! Here, this is for you.” He pressed the bouquet into your hands, and you received it thankfully, admiring its beauty.

Next to you, you were vaguely aware of Winwin accepting Ningning’s hug, and she handed him a rose that he held gently in his hand, turning to you. With his eyebrows raised high, he looked pointedly at Chenle, silently asking if you were going out to dinner with him.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to get ramen?” You looked down at your white shirt, cringing inwardly, but nodded anyway.

“Sounds good.”

Renjun glanced knowingly at Jisung, teasingly saying, “Good job on today, Y/n. You did well.”

You nodded absently, maintaining eye contact with Chenle, and Jisung nudged Renjun subtly. “What do you say we dip after tonight? Maybe give them some space?”

Renjun nodded in relief. “And here I was scared you’d never catch on.”

The four of you walked towards Renjun’s car, and as you slid into the backseat, you slipped your bag off your shoulder and onto the floor. Once your seatbelt was fastened, you began toying with the flower petals, and Chenle pointed his thumb at it. “Renjun chose those, and it’s a gift from all of us. A token of congratulations.”

“Oh.”

You were sure the disappointment was evident through your voice, because Chenle’s lip curled up into something resembling a smirk.

He leaned over, hand pressed into the middle seat separating you, close enough for you to smell the gel he had used in his hair and the cologne he had sprayed.

“Why do you sound disappointed? Could it be that you were expecting a gift from me?”

Your brain short-circuited.

You moved away from him, squishing yourself against the window, croaking out a tentative “no”, only causing his smirk to deepen as he backed away, glancing at his phone. “That’s too bad, then,” he remarked, offhandedly adding, “Because I did get you a gift.”

Renjun cleared his throat, making eye contact with you through the mirror before saying, “Seriously, Lele, why are you like this? Stop teasing Y/n.”

“Their reactions are just too entertaining,” Chenle replied.

It was true. Your ears were as red as a tomato, and your cheeks were hot. You averted your eyes, studiously staring out the window until Jisung turned around in the passenger seat and beckoned you to come closer.

“He acts very confident, but he’s nervous too,” Jisung whispered.

“I heard that. I'm not nervous,” Chenle called.

“Yeah, right. I saw you psyching yourself up before the performance earlier. Who’re you trying to fool?” Jisung retaliated, immediately turning on Chenle.

The latter smiled sheepishly, turning away from you and facing the window.

“...and now he’s sulking,” Jisung announced, to which Chenle flipped him off, causing Renjun to laugh, lightening the atmosphere.

“Seriously, though. Don't be fooled by him,” Jisung stage-whispered to you. You shot him a knowing grin and nodded.

Renjun pulled into the parking lot, and you got out of the car, trailing after them.

That was, until you came to a fancy restaurant. Chenle was ahead of everyone else, but you tugged on his sleeve, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“Chenle,” you whispered. “I’m not dressed for this.” You gestured at yourself, forcing him to take a good look at what you were wearing, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s wrong? I don't get it, you look fine.”

“I’m dressed in a T-shirt and pants! This is the kind of place you wear a blazer to! Or at the very least, a collared, long-sleeved shirt!” you whisper-yelled.

“Okay, firstly, calm down. Look at what I'm wearing. Look at what Renjun and Jisung are wearing. None of us are dressed formally, alright? Secondly, you look perfectly fine dressed the way that you are. Thirdly, I reserved a room. With a door.” He paused to let it sink in. “So no one is going to look inside and judge you for what you’re wearing, okay?”

“I just feel like you should have told me,” you muttered.

“Y/n, darling, do you even hear yourself? How could I have told you? It’s a surprise! Telling you would ruin the whole point of a surprise.”

You would have retorted, but the pet name that he had called you made you too flustered to respond. You pressed your lips together and looked down to hide the growing blush on your cheeks as you nodded. “M’kay.”

“Okay,” Chenle repeated, opening his hand for you to take. When you didn’t notice, he slipped his hand into yours, tugging you towards the counter. “I have a reservation for four under Mr Zhong.”

“Right this way, sir.” A waiter held several menus in his hand as he directed you to follow him, weaving through the restaurant.

“Keep your head up,” Chenle murmured softly. “It’ll take their attention away from your clothes.”

You inwardly said a prayer that the colour of your cheeks had gone back to normal, lifting your chin and doing your best to mimic Chenle’s confident strides and the relaxed gait of his walk. His grip on your hand tightened momentarily, and just as quickly as he had squeezed your hand, he let it go, smiling at you reassuringly.

“Here’s your room, sir.”

The four of you headed into the room, removing your shoes before sitting cross-legged on the rattan mat.

Chenle handed out the menus, and you took your time to look through it, trying not to think too hard about the price of the food as you looked through it nervously. When no one spoke, you gently tapped Jisung on the shoulder.

”Jisung?” He looked up, and you asked, “Um, what should I get?”

“Why’re you asking me?” he asked with a disbelieving huff. “Ask Chenle.”

“Ask me what?”

“… Nevermind.”

Chenle looked up from the menu, narrowing his eyes. Renjun stood, jerking his head to the side, and Jisung subtly excused himself. You looked at them, confused, but Chenle’s gaze remained trained on you.

”Y/n, are you okay?”

You opened your mouth, about to speak, then closed it again. You rarely found yourself at a loss for words, but at the moment you had no way to express yourself. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful for the effort Chenle was putting in, but you simply weren’t used to it.

Chenle’s expression softened. “Shall we go back home?“

You hesitated, licking your lips anxiously. Then, you nodded.

”Okay. Let’s go, darling.”

The door handle jiggled as you stood up, and Renjun and Jisung stood awkwardly in the door frame, and Chenle waved them over. “We’re going, enjoy your dinner.”

When they said nothing, he sighed. “Yes, I’ll pay for it.”

Renjun grinned. “Thanks, Lele!”

You only realised that your bag with all your costumes were still in Renjun’s car when you passed the carpark and Chenle didn’t slow down, but the way he slipped his hand into yours made it hard to focus on anything else. You decided that would be a problem for another time.

The restaurant turned out to be near the apartment building, so you and Chenle took a nice, long stroll through the neighbourhood, his gaze fixed on you while you looked anywhere but at his face: the asphalt, the stars, the trees casting creepy shadows on the pavement.

You paid attention to the way the soles of your shoes sank under you with each step, listening closely to the sound of Chenle’s steady breathing and the feel of his fingers between yours, thumb rubbing circles against the back of your hand.

“Y/n.” When he said your name, everything else went silent—from the crickets chirping to the wind rustling through leafy trees, the world fell quiet until all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears and the thumping of your heart.

“Chén lè.” The silence was excruciating, his name falling from your lips like a promise, a question, an offer all at once. Spelled out in the two careful syllables, pronounced perfectly in the same tones he’d introduced himself in.

He tugged on your hand, pulling you into his embrace, burying your head against his shoulder. There you stayed, tilting your head to the side so you could admire the view of him, the moon casting shadows on his side profile.

“I like you.”

Chenle smiled, and you could feel the way his lips curved up when his jaw moved against your head. “I know.”

“Since when?”

“Since you called me ‘cute’ the first time we met.”

“No. Way.” You pulled away, scouring his eyes for answers. “You’re kidding.”

He smirked. “I’m not.”

“You heard that?”

He shrugged. “You weren’t exactly quiet.”

Oh, hell. You buried your face as deep into his jacket as it would go, the fluffy material muffling your embarrassed mumbling. Chenle patted your hair, still smiling.

”Don’t worry.” When you didn’t move, he continued, “I like you too.”

“Since when?”

“Since the time you woke me up in the middle of the night, stumbling into your apartment, crashing against the gate and falling to your knees. You broke your own plant that time, the one that you keep outside the apartment, did you know that?”

“The one you gave me?” you asked, horrified.

”No, the other one. The one you bought like a month after. Anyway, I cleaned up the broken pot and the spilt soil by the light of my phone torchlight while you watched me, your sleep-deprived self blinking away sleep. That’s when I knew.”

Chenle leaned away from you, tilting your chin upwards, whispering, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, moving in to press his lips against yours, wrists behind his neck. His hands found their way to your waist, holding you tightly as his lips moved against yours, soft and tentative and warm.

You sighed when he pulled away, causing him to quirk an eyebrow and ask, “That bad?”

“No,” you murmured, pressing kisses along his jaw. “That good.”

You would have continued kissing him, but he only grinned cheekily at you, moving your wrists away and interlacing his fingers with yours.

Chenle held onto your hand the entire way back, only letting go when you needed to dig into your pocket for your keys. The plant that he had replaced for you still sat on your doorstep next to your shoes, and it held a whole new meaning for you when you left your shoes on the rack and headed inside.

Chenle immediately noted the succulent resting on your window sill, but he said nothing until you stopped short in the middle of the living room.

”Ro…ses?”

The roses had been left in a vase on your dining table with a little bit of help from Winwin, who had asked you for your keys a couple of days before. You tenderly touched the velvet petals, struck speechless by the thoughtful gesture.

Chenle opened a small box, lifting your wrist up so he could fasten a bracelet around your wrist.

”Do you know what shǒu liàn means?” You shook your head. “It means bracelet in Mandarin. But the words for protecting your love have the same pronunciation. Shǒu liàn. Your name is engraved on the band, and there’s space for more charms,” he pointed out.

”There’s a pizza slice,” you commented. He nodded proudly. “And a monkey.” He nodded again, his proud smile growing wider.

“Do you like it?”

You swore you could hear him holding his breath as he waited for your answer.

”Not as much as I like you.”

”Oh, I know.”

And there was nothing else for you to do but to wipe that confident smile off of his face with a peck to his lips that left him blushing.

- fin -

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bunji-enthusiast · 1 year ago

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Closer And Closer

Note || as requested by many, here is the sequel! This was a ton of fun to write 🤲

WC || 2,535

<(Previous Part)> <(You are here)>

Sypnosis || With your new friend in hand, you begin earning some unexpected honesty—and new understandings.

Once, there was a dream. Sometimes it would recur, coming back to you in the encroaching depths of your mind no matter how much you wanted to stop dreaming this very same dream. It was always on and off, how it can always come back–like a nightmare–just how can one describe it?

People can forget their own dreams long after they wake up, lest they be lucky to want to write down the dream. So you were one and the same, the trepidation always sneaking upon you, like an approaching danger that will never fail to make your nerves stand on end.

“Mommy,” You tugged at the hem of the woman’s dress, a baby trapped within a limited consciousness; yearning for love, curiosity and just always wanting to be around your parents. It’s natural and in nature for a young child to always want their parents. “Why are you gonna be gone for so long?”

Oh, that sweet, sweet voice. How adorable could you be? The woman just looked down upon your small form with a smile, so very reminiscent of motherly love. Only a mother could bring a kind of peace like that to their child, the woman thought. She crouched down to your level, patting the crown of your head with a gentle hand, so very gentle as you remember her even gentler heartbeat. A voice came from her mouth, words carried with a saccharine tone. “My little sweet apple pie, it is only a work trip!” She giggled, then wrapped her arms around you and held you close. Causing you to giggle as well, laughter so joyous even the woman holding you now couldn’t help but feel such joy because of you alone. “I’ll be back before you can say Poppies!”

You look up at her, strangely the woman’s face was misty, enshrouded by black shadows. As if reality didn’t want you to see her, your own mother. Still, a smile remained upon your face as you nodded at the woman. “Hehe! Okay, mom.”

Slowly you blinked, the world suddenly began disappearing from sight, the environment twisting upon your peripherals.

“What?”

You groan audibly, cursing to yourself under your breath. “Of-fucking-course.”

Slowly, You remember where you are now. A hand comes into your view and holds you steady, a very familiar one.

“Don’t get up too quickly, you will get weary Angel.” His voice warns, it still seemed so strained and worn worse for wear. Just what kind of things had Catnap done to DogDay? Perhaps you shouldn’t worry about it, something like that is a very personal thing to ask about, no doubt.

You coughed, pounding on your chest as you slowly rose awake. Your companion had been waiting calmly for you to collect yourself, but that had made him a little worried as he winced when you coughed. Slowly enough, you ease yourself into standing with DogDay’s help, all that jumping and landing seriously hurt your body a great deal. No wonder you were exhausted as hell right now.

Right, no time to worry about that now. It was time to be more worried about what to do next, “DogDay, you think you can handle being carried around by me in that state?” You asked with an airy tone, you didn’t want to be too loud and accidentally attract any nearby toys who are under Catnap’s influence. DogDay slumped for a moment, most likely still very worn out from probably the way he had been hanged. He let out a heavy sigh, feeling everything coursing through him, he was very much here and alive.

He always had been continually reminded of this very thing.

Reminded of Catnap.

“No need to worry about me, Angel.” Your companion spoke, his fur ruffling about in his movements. You probably were gonna have to do something about that later, DogDay sorely needed some cleaning up. “I am tougher than you think.”

It seemed his words carried a half-hearted weight, carrying no affirmed meaning to them. You looked at DogDay incredulously, clear as night and day that you knew this well; worn out, tired and cramping for a plan to end the Prototype. You’ve never gotten a good look at the Prototype, only a few times you have gotten a good look at the Prototype’s hand–there must be a whole body from beyond the shadow’s.

Awaiting, no doubt terrifying too. But, you dealt with adrenaline rushes and terrifying monsters from the moment you stepped foot into the abandoned Playtime Co.

“Ah, well, just tell me if anything is bothering you.” You nodded at him, patting down your clothing, the dust falling in your wake. DogDay was quiet for a moment, taking a hand-step back as he looked around at the environment once more. He was considering something, considering how to go about the next phase of the way.

“No safe places here, nothing good.” For a moment, you swore that you had seen his mouth contorting into a frown–though in every Smiling Critter, they always are smiling–So this was completely new, different somehow. “My apologies Angel, safe places are rare to find.” DogDay sighed, he in a sense was habitually instinctive to keep his loved ones safe; going so far as to make sure they have a good sleep. Even if it meant at the cost of his own health.

He cared deeply for his friends, but they were gone now. Catnap was someone he could not recognize anymore, that wasn’t his friend.

DogDay’s only focus was making sure you are alive and safe.

Something of which is admittedly difficult to do, knowing all the horrors that had occurred in Playtime Co. but it wasn’t too troubling for someone like you. DogDay was glad for you about that, impressed even that you had managed to survive thus far before you had met him.

You patted his head, causing him to look back at you. “Nothing to apologize for! Everyone’s just… a little too crazy nowadays.” You mutter, walking over to a dusty pile and finding a tape. There seemed to be thousands of these tapes all around the Factory, some of which you could’ve sworn recording yourself.

Being a former employee for Playtime Co. is one thing to say, but being an engineer was a different process. You were only involved in the works of designing and constructing, not once had you ever really got hand in hand with actually building things. But you were highly proud of the work you had done and completed alongside your fellow co-workers, looking back on it now… all it had done simply saddened you.

How it seemed to be the way that the toys seemed to be so lifeless, once so full of joy, love and empathy for everyone in this place all together.

You wouldn’t mind turning back the clock and doing good for once more, the right way this time. When everything was said and done, the toys you came across were well justified in their anger for being abandoned–but you weren’t looking to be on the top list of being killed either. Considering how you had gotten lucky apparently by quitting the day before your co-workers had all disappeared.

Getting through this place was no trouble, you remember some good places of this Factory like the back of your hand. Huggy Wuggy, Kissy Missy of whom is his spouse, was rather different to the likes of the tall-blue furred beast. Rather inconceivable in behaviors, Kissy Missy was a perturbed ally, one you didn’t expect. All the toys you met so far, (save for Poppy, and Kissy Missy) had full intentions to kill you from going any further.

This Factory is a whole goddamn amalgamation of mysteries you weren’t sure you wanted to solve anymore. Let alone having any trust in every being you come across now too, how disturbing must this get? You sure as hell weren’t Elliot Ludwig.

“I simply wish I could be of more help.” DogDay recounted with a mournful tune, breaking you out of your thoughts and consolation. You frown at him, wanting to offer comfort: the words could not come through. He shuffled around to begin looking for things too, but now something had crossed your mind.

You still couldn’t piece together almost everything between DogDay and Catnap, some things he had said back at the heretic altar had stuck with you. Until now it was dismissable, out of sight and out of mind you supposed. Though you recounted some thoughts that had warmed you in ways you didn’t expect, at first meet he already was of great character–someone you truly wanted to be around.

The repugnant smell that had always seemed to be invading your senses was gone now, this particular area was an untouched one. “DogDay… do you mind if I ask you something?” You spoke, stepping over the rubbish and noting the sound footsteps that echo in your wake. Don’t walk too much, this area may be empty but it didn’t mean that Catnap wasn’t watching. That cat was terrifying to you. Permeating nightmares had run endlessly through your mind, and his gas before when calling back on previous close counters with the obsessed follower of the prototype were far too close.

Continually he had gone about looking for anything that may be of assistance to you both, still he had spoken in reply, “Angel, I will answer anything. You deserve as such.” DogDay recounted, noting what he had said to you before you fell to the slumbers of sweet, sweet sleep.

Cool, cool cool… that was dandy and nice of him. You just weren’t sure how to articulate the very question that lays burning in your mouth, for fear of the fact you might be gazed upon with ranicid and covert questioning, like an ornery old bitch. Pointedly you stepped around the rubble, in turn you came across an old set-up, as if there used to be children here. A blanket laying upon the ground and the ravaged pillows, still in condition that you could say that was okay to be recycled for use. Still quite in a-okay position to sit down on, waiting for DogDay to finish scrambling around.

“So,” You began, lacing your fingers together and intertwining them purely out of your nerves spiking in your body as of right now. “What’s… the deal between you and Catnap?” Abruptly, at those words, his very being felt as if he tensed up. You couldn’t read him right now, suddenly incomprehensible to understand.

“I suppose you should know about it, in order to really understand Catnap.” He motioned, steadily crawling over to where you sat. “Catnap was someone you could get along great with, quiet and not much of a talker, but actions speak louder than words Angel.”

Then, there was a lapse in his words; DogDay was doing his best to keep himself steady and calm. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to fall apart in front of you, that is not very leader-like of someone such as DogDay.

“Oh, his actions spoke so much more for him than one little word.” He nodded, laying his head upon his crossed arms. DogDay had made himself comfortable as he shifted to a proper position. “But, things happened. Very bad things.” You were albeit surprised he was willingly sharing such information with you, as personal as it would appear.

Still, you had remained muted, this was something that could conceivably help you in dealing with the nightmare cat later on. “Something had happened to him, something I wasn’t aware of. Angel, he.. wasn’t the same Catnap. He wasn’t my friend anymore.” Now, you could understand this well.

You yourself never had a good trade off within all your relationships, no matter what kind of relationship it was… be it; platonic, romantic, friends even! Humans are odd and sometimes indescribable in nature, but it simply has always been this way. But friends change, sometimes partially and even supernaturally.

In DogDay’s case, it was gruesome and religious. Catnap by no means was someone to act fool with, something you could pick out with merely just from first impressions. In passing, this was no offense whatsoever–personally that cat looked scary as hell.

“All my friends just,” Then, DogDay allowed himself to breathe again once more. “I wouldn’t wish it even on my own worst enemy.”

“The Prototype?” You snorted, shifting your weight from one end to the other as you gave him a benign quizzical look.

“Angel.”

“I'm messing with you!”

You waved him off, then put your hands in your lap. It was oddly endearing in how you behaved, the normalcy around here is rare, DogDay would admit. “So it seems, Prototype is his god. I don’t understand every detail, but The Prototype saved him.” He beckoned, recounting the mention of the Prototype from not even two minutes ago.

“So Catnap began viewing this, Prototype as such?” You finished for him, tilting your head. Your companion nodded, lifting his head to recover proper eye contact with you.

“Poppy, the rest who are on your side want nothing more to end the terror of the Prototype’s reign. Come to save me Angel, I thank you so much for that.” Honesty was a fickle thing for DogDay since recalling recent events, but had it come to you? The fearless dog didn’t mind.

“Oh it’s nothing to be thanked for,” You grin at him, ever so slightly. But he’ll take that, “You were in so much pain. That’s a position no innocent person, or toy deserves to be in.”

DogDay had to consider this for a moment, so much consideration had been done lately. Yet, it was all done to simply understand the chaos underlying this factory, no doubt it had caused a lot of trauma (to many in this place) alone. “You're right about that, Angel, I suppose I had gotten too comfortable in all my reckless decadence.” Willfully, he was well aware of his actions as a leader. Some of which he had questioned why he had made them.

Your hand on his ragged-torn furred head had snapped DogDay out of his conscious thoughts, “We all deserve peace, that means you too DogDay.”

You were right.

It seems there are still many things to be learned.

“You are far too kind to me.” He sighed, leaning into your hand. You never moved your hand away from him.

“Though we should probably get you cleaned up.” That sentence alone suddenly broke the comfortable atmosphere, still much rather comedic however.

“Right,” DogDay barked, as if he really was laughing. His whole body shook, it was rather a wave of happiness. Something he had not often felt, it had almost shocked him a little. “I believe they would have some bandages and towels nearby, water too.” Your companion then noted it would most likely be at a medical station somewhere.

You raised a brow at this, causing DogDay to nod with an air of laughter about him as he spoke once more whilst you had hoisted him over your shoulders. “I worked with children quite more often than not, you would be surprised at the amount of things that happen during playtime Angel.”

[Taglist: @zacklover24 ]

#poppy playtime x reader #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime #x reader #I’m I using Angel too much? seems in-character for him to keep calling you that.#aughhh I love this fluffy boy

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago

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𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 4k

summary: after finding him wounded in an empty alleyway, against your better judgment, you decide to patch him up in your apartment. you expect that to be the end of it, never to see him again, that is, until you do.

warnings: piv, rough sex, dirty talking, biting, claws make a brief appearance, mild degradation (he calls you slut once), mention of female masturbation

You live in a world without heroes. Yet, the villains roam free.

You’re used to it by now, walking through the damp alleyways. You hear a shout here and there, always keeping your head bowed as you walk past whatever might be going on. Once upon a time, this bothered you. But after a knife to your stomach and a punch to the cheek, you learned to look the other way around, no matter how painful it might be. Sometimes you find yourself wondering why this might be. You always assumed some type of ying yang situation should be in place, making everything right, but you seem to be living in a world without good. Without light.

You don’t know what prompts you to do it. You’re walking back from work, the scent of rain and the stench of exhaust thick in the air. All you want to do is get to your cramped apartment before the downpour.

You think it’s the wind that makes you turn your head, you hate when your eyes water and dry out. When you do turn, you stare into the familiar abyss of the alleyway behind your apartment. It’s truly pitch black. Despite the darkness, you see a faint movement in shadows, a loud sound, a crash. You see a flash of red, blue. Your eyes narrow—what the?

You know well that you shouldn’t, that whatever was lurking in the shadows would be bad news, but you do it anyway. With a grunt, you open the flashlight of your phone and take a step closer. There’s a man laying on the cold ground, he doesn’t seem to be moving.

“Hello?” you call out. No answer. “Um, are you drunk or high? Should I call an ambulance?”

The broad figure groans and your heart nearly lurches. “No,” he mumbles. “No doctors.”

With a slight tremor in your step, you come closer. You shine the light into his face, his brows furrow, an annoyed scowl etching into his handsome features. Your lips part with a soft exhale. He’s so handsome.

Then you get a good look at the rest of him—what the hell is he wearing?

“Do you need help?” you ask, unsure. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding, his eye looks a bit swollen though. Wait, scratch that, you think you spot some blood on his lips. “Should I get you anything?”

Maybe you sound foolish, but you know better than to just call 911 for a random person. Everyone is a criminal these days. Fuck, if he was a criminal you should call the cops, this city is seriously starting to cloud your better judgment.

“No cops,” he chokes and coughs, as if he can read your thoughts. “Go away, I’ll be fine.”

No, he won’t.

He knows it. You know it.

“I live right next door,” you answer against your better judgment. “I have a first aid kit. I can patch you up if you want? I don’t wanna brag, but I am a nurse in training.”

He makes a sound that is similar to a chuckle but the sound quickly fades into a vicious cough. You tuck the phone into your pocket and lean over, “Alright big guy, you’re coming with me,” you attempt to throw his arm over your shoulder but that proves to be more difficult. “Can you stand? Even a little.”

He nods and straightens up a bit. You’re still carrying most of his weight but you manage to get him past the door and onto your couch.

You must’ve thrown him a little too hard because he lets out a loud grunt, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle the sound.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “Just wait for me here, I’ll come back with water and the first aid kit.”

The man makes another sound. You’re starting to think this is his only form of communication.

When you come back, he’s still where you left him. Albeit looking a bit more alert now, eyes constantly scanning your humble apartment. You can’t really blame him though, you would do the same thing. You eye him warily, then place the glass of water on the coffee table. He glares at it like it’s poison.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He scoffs, “I don’t think you could even if you tried,” he answers, tongue moving over his bloody bottom lip. He points at the table. “And there’s a coaster right there.”

“Who are you, my mother?”

Despite your sharp tone, you place the glass on the coaster and sit on the coffee table, the small first aid kit in hand. “Does that thing have a zipper, or. . . ?”

His right brow and lip cock up simultaneously. You’re acutely aware that no matter what you do, you’ll never be able to understand what’s going on in that head of his—Not that you want to. He’s a stranger. A man that looks strong enough to hold you by the neck before you can reach the pepper spray nestled in your bag.

The silence makes you uneasy, and when you finally open your mouth to speak, he leans forward. “Don’t freak out,” he grunts.

“Why would I freak out—” The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, his suit glitches—glitches—like a damn video game. It blinks once, twice and you swear you can see little particles glimmering on his skin, fading away from reality. Panic flaring in your gut, you look down.

Pants still on. And here your thought that the entire thing was a one-piece suit.

“I said don’t freak out,” he repeats, eyebrow raised and head tilted to the side. You snap your mouth shut.

“I’m not freaking out,” you say, voice shrill. “Who’s freaking out? Not me.”

His shoulders are broad, arms muscular with thick veins meandering down. You’ve never been a fan of veins popping out but whoever this man was made it look good. You swallow over and over in a weak attempt to wet the inside of your mouth. You fail helplessly. You’re not even aware that you’re holding the first aid kit with an iron grip, knuckles aching from the pressure. His torso is completely bare now.

“I don’t have a zipper,” he says unhelpfully, unaware of you behaving straight out of a 1950s cartoon.

“I can see that.”

God, he is the weirdest stray you ever brought over.

He points at the box, “So do you actually know how to use what’s inside or were you just bluffing when you said you were a nurse?”

“A nurse in training,” you quip. “And no, I wasn’t bluffing.”

With great strength, you finally drag your eyes down his torso. There’s a splatter of blood, some of the drops rubbed into his skin and the crimson trail is followed up by a giant slash across his stomach. The bleeding had stopped which was a good sign. You lean closer, your fingers fiddling with the box at the same time, narrowing your gaze you notice the wound is deeper than you had initially thought.

“Whoever it was that attacked you got you good,” you murmur. Without a second thought, you slide off the coffee table and kneel in front of him, you miss the glint in his eyes as he looks down, miss the way he spreads his legs so you can fit better.

“How do you know it wasn’t me who attacked them?”

The rough tone of his voice prompts you to look up. For someone who’s been stabbed, he’s eerily calm. His arms are spread over the backrest, chest slowly rising up and down as his eyes flit across your face, searching. The muscle in his jaw twitches, lips stretching into something resembling a snarl. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are, the position you’re in. The sound of danger rings in your ears—you don’t even know this man’s name. Your breath catches in your throat, stomach jumping. You don’t know why you initially felt so comfortable with him, as if you were long-lost friends, but you aren’t. You were being reckless.

“Scared?” he asks, venomous, hunching over your frame, caging you in. Heat radiates from his thighs, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping your insides. He hooks two fingers under your chin, lifts your head up. Your bottom lip quivers. “You should be. You live in a dangerous world.”

“And you don’t?” you counter, your voice barely above a whisper, your words hanging in the air, challenging his assertion. The question slips out before you can fully comprehend its weight, and you see his jaw tighten as he ponders for an answer.

You meticulously cleanse the wound, removing dirt and debris with steady hands. The sting of antiseptic fills the air, intermingling with the charged atmosphere. You’re not shy with the way you touch him, a simmering annoyance warming your gut. He can take it, you think applying further pressure. He doesn’t make a sound.

The dim light of the room accentuates the harsh contours of his face, and his piercing gaze feels like it's cutting through your soul. You drag your teth against the smooth surface of the inside of your cheek. You’ve never had a patient stand this still.

Finally, just as you complete the final wrap of the bandage, he gives you an answer.

“Not the same one as you do.”

Miguel O’hara was his name. He told you just before disappearing into the neon lights of the dark and cold city. You didn’t think much of it, you were sure you wouldn’t be seeing him again, which meant remembering his name was useless.

But your mind wouldn’t let him go. You tasted his name in the dark hours of the night, hand between your legs, coming as you thought of scenarios where instead of dousing his wound in antiseptic, you took his cock into his mouth, helping him in a different way. His suit left little to the imagination and now that your imagination roamed free, you’re glad that it was.

Convinced that he’ll never show up again, you continue on normally, half in fear due to the chaos around you, trying to do your best.

That was until he did show up.

You step out of the shower, water trickling down your skin, softened by the warm steam. The towel hangs loosely around your chest, on the verge of slipping off. You never quite mastered the art of securing it tightly, but living alone means you don't have to worry about walking around naked if it happens to fall off.

The window cracks open, cold air seeping through, chilling your freshly warmed body. Tension instantly builds in your body, your eyes slowly moving to the window. You see him then. Miguel. He pushes the window open and climbs in, not saying a word. You hold the towel tightly around you—a dream, you think, it has to be.

With quick, large steps, he crowds your space, forcing your back against the wall. The air is knocked from your lungs, your throat convulsing with a sudden panic. He’s not touching you.

“M-Miguel,” you whisper. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Neither did I,” he answers, large hands cupping your waist and pinning you to the wall. “I’m tired,” he adds, words dropping from his lips more like a punch than a plea. Like someone is squeezing the words out of him.

“What do you need?”

His eyes drop to your lips, a hungry gaze that sends shivers up your spine. You hold your breath. He’s so close, close enough that you feel his breath on your damp skin. He tilts his head to the side, eyes closing.

“I need to not think,” he answers painfully slow, tasting every word. “I need to not feel. I need to not worry. I need to disappear for a while.”

Miguel takes a long, languid breath. Filling his lungs with the scent of your watermelon body wash. His tongue pokes from between his lips, moving over the bottom one. “Can you give me that?”

His fingers tighten, the soft fabric of your towel bunching in his palm, you swear you feel the bite of nails despite the fluffy exterior. Your eyes search his. You know nothing of him. Only his name that he’d begrudgingly given you. Your pulse quickens, the rush of blood loud in your ears. He’s not here for you, that’s something you need to keep in mind before going any further. He’s here for the release, for the simple act of having another’s warmth surrounding him. You’re an escape. Something simple and easy he doesn’t have to think about when he runs off to deal with whatever he deals with.

After seconds that feel like hours, you decide you want to give that to him. You don’t mind the hurt you’ll feel after. Letting him take what he wants knowing that’ll affect you more than him. Something about him makes you not care.

“I can,” you breathe, instinctively searching for his lips with your own. “Do your worst Miguel O’hara.”

You drop the towel, damp fabric pooling at your ankles. His eyes widen briefly before smiling something wicked. His forehead touches yours, nose brushing your own as his lips ghost an inch away. Your breath catches in your throat, the need growing between your legs. A chuckle drops from his lips reminding you of gravel. You don’t share his humor, you just want to feel him.

“You don’t want my worst,” he grunts. “You’ll break.”

“I won’t.”

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. Miguel doesn’t attempt to probe you wrong, breaking things is meant to have consequences. You either try to fix it or ponder over what you’ve done, he wants none of that. Instead, he presses flush against you, body firm in contrast with the soft swell of your chest and stomach. Your nipples tighten. He crashes into you, tongue hungrily slipping between your lips as his mouth moves greedily. You feel hands on your chest, kneading, squeezing, pinching. You moan into his mouth, he swallows the sounds, grinding himself hard into you. You’re shaking, his body suffocating.

“If I touch you,” he says into your mouth, fingers skimming the outside of your thighs. “Will you be soaked for me?” With a whimper, you nod. He grins, canines looking sharper compared to what they did before, “Such a good little slut,” he growls.

Contrary to what he’d said, he doesn’t slip his fingers between your legs to see if you’re telling the truth. Instead, he slots his thick thigh between your bare legs, pushing the muscle up until you’re left gasping, your hands flailing as you wrap them around his broad shoulders. The pressure makes you dizzy, the fabric of his suit softer than what you expected, a delicious friction over your aching clit. You moan openly into his neck, teeth scraping against the vein.

“I’m going to fuck you like this,” he murmurs. “Up against the wall,” his suit fades away, cock hard against the soft planes of your stomach. You shudder as precome smears over the skin. He continues, licking your lips. “Then up against the window, want you to be loud. Want you to scream and tell me to take. . .”

The emphasis on the “t” sends a million tiny needles biting into your skin. Your chest heaves with the brush of his lips, you want to feel it again, the plush feeling of faux softness on your mouth. But he doesn’t give you that. He smiles a cruel smile, one that chills your skin but lights a fire in the pit of your stomach. He tilts his head.

“And take. . .”

You chase his lips, he refuses to give you what you want.

“And take. . .”

Your frustration grows, a desperate sound twists through you, and your fingers curl around his neck, knitting through his hair as you give the curls a warning tug. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the slightest. He drags his lips down your neck, hitches your one thigh up his hip, and positions his length against you. He doesn’t look at you, nor say another word. He fills you with one hard thrust, knocking you back against the wall, your body sliding up the rough interior. The stretch of him lingers on the line of being painful. There’s a bite to it, but also a deep pleasure that makes your legs shake.

“So fucking wet,” he rasps, sinking his teeth into your neck. It feels sharp enough that you think he breaks the skin, blood filling his mouth, but that’s not the case. The feeling quickly passes when his mouth crashes into yours in a messy kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, he doesn’t care. He takes what you give him and he does so violently, splitting you into two with every thrust.

He grabs handfuls of your hips, lifting you off the wall before slamming you back down with renewed fervor. He angles each thrust to the point of almost pain. You cry out, a long, desperate noise that almost drowns out his own, panting gruffly. You can feel the heat in your veins coursing through you as pleasure builds, the almost unbearable sensation sending you into overload. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his skin as his name leaves your lips in a plea for him to not stop. His hands grip you tighter as his movements become more violent, eyes locked together as they both reach the brink of ecstasy.

The look in his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the parting of his lips, the damp curls at the base of his scalp—it does something indescribable to you. You arch your back to give more for him. All your focus narrowing on the feeling of him.

Suddenly your body strains as he stills, the thunderous rumbling of your orgasm hitting you full force as you feel yourself tighten around his shaft in an attempt to prolong the blissful pleasure. His grip slackens and you fall forward against him, boneless as you feel the last throes of your orgasm lingering in your veins. You lick the salt off his skin, your body grinding sloppily against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, still achingly hard inside of you. “Already?”

“I—I never came that quick before. . .” you answer with a slight slur of speech, you’re tingling all over.

You’re not sure but you think you see a hint of pride in those dark smug eyes, “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he says. “You’re mine until the sun comes up.”

Miguel is a man of his word.

He fucks you up against the window, just like he said. Your breasts pressed up against the cold smooth surface as he takes you from behind. It burns. It burns yet you can only beg for more. You scream his name, fog up the window, the rough drag of his cock forcing the roll of your eyes every goddamn time. The feeling of being stretched wide never passes, each thrust like the first time.

He holds you by the nape, pushes you forward, the pressure only adding to the fire. You figure out soon he likes holding you like that. He enjoys shoving you up against things, adding to the idea that you’re just a fleeting moment and nothing more. When he pulls out you instinctively search for him with your hips. His cock lays heavy over the curve of your ass, he spreads you and presses his cock between the globes, rocking until thick ropes of come land on your back. You shudder, breathless, your vocabulary reduced to only his name.

You feel a grip on your chin and he turns you enough so that he can slot his lips against yours. Your neck aches but your part for him anyway, allowing the taste of him to flood all your senses. When he parts only a string of saliva connects you, your breathing coming in heavy pants.

A second later the world around you blurs and you quickly find yourself straddling him above the bed. The old furniture creaking in protest. You forget how nervous you would be if it were someone else, how self-conscience you would be riding a man but Miguel doesn’t give you a chance to think about it. His feet planted firmly on the bedding, he snaps his hips, burying himself deep into the tight fist of your cunt, over and over, until you’re stupid for him.

His name rips from your throat, you can’t even think of saying anything else. You attempt to muffle yourself with the back of your hand but he’s quick to yank it back down.

“No” he utters a low, guttural sound, hands coming up your back. “I said I wanted you to scream.”

He sounds unhinged, like something snapped inside of him. You feel teeth on your collarbone, nails dragging down your back, sharp, leaving long lines of irritated skin. A pleasurable pain blossoming over your skin.

You begin to unravel as you thrust your hips against him, his movements setting off white-hot sparks of pleasure like incandescent lightning. Moans rush from your lips as his name is repeated in a mantra and you cling to him desperately, your hands clawing at his back and your nails digging into his skin as you spiral ever faster into oblivion.

Miguel is relentless in the way he drives into you. You can feel him swell inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hands to your hips, pushing and grinding against you as every muscle in his body strains.

His breathing is quick and harsh against your ear, his voice a hungry growl, “That’s it, take it. You were waiting for this, weren’t you? Hungry for a cock no matter who it belongs to.”

You can’t answer.

Miguel’s hips thrust harder, faster—his orgasm crashes through him, his hands gripping your hips painfully as he spills his hot seed deep within you. You find yourself trembling as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you, your body feeling like electricity as you come down from the high. You clench tightly around him, your own overwhelming orgasm ripping through you, overstimulation making you cry out.

He spins you both, bringing you to lay underneath him. Miguel collapses against you, breathing heavy as his grip on you slowly relaxes. He holds you for a moment, your heart thrumming as his forehead briefly rests against yours, breaths mingling. Then, with a satisfied groan, he pulls away. You let out a hiss. It feels achingly empty.

You’re surprised when he starts pushing your legs apart, watching his spend trickling down your folds and making a mess on the sheets. He pushes globs of cum back into you with thick fingers. Your head falls, back arching into his touch. “You made such a mess,” he says, sounding almost transfixed. Cramming fingers inside of you and curling them, your body seizes.

After that, you’re not sure when he leaves. Sleep takes you and when you wake, he’s gone. No note, no message left behind. The only evidence that he was here is the ache between your legs, and the taces of him still lingering on your thighs.

You’re sure you won’t be seeing him again. He got what he came for.

The next night he’s back, climbing through the window for more.

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